Retrograde
by of pencils and stains
Summary: "Cut off my limb," he tells her. "I'm yours." [SasuHina]
1. Prologue

**Retrograde**

_in the aftermath of anguish, i find you._

**Prologue**

.

.

When Hinata wakes up, the air in her lungs have long turned into water, and she is alone.

(I will always come back to you.)

The branch seal on her forehead is half-way done, after forty-eight hours of the needed ritual; splotches of blood decorate the wooden floorboards, a basin of hot water sits to her right. The night a heavy grey outside her window, the constellations forming a future she could not read.

Hinata sits up. Uses her hands to propel herself to stand, steadies herself, breathes.

She finds that something thicker than water has somehow lodged itself in the linings of her lungs, and she can't breathe. There is a constant noise in the back of her head, garbled words in vague echoes of a voice she has never known. The air feels hot and stuffy, like a fault was left unattended in the room to simmer into a grudge.

She moves towards the door that leads outside. Opens it and shuts it behind her. Feels the cool night breeze brush against her face.

Her eyes now see an endless expanse of green and grey, with tufts of white as clouds drifitng along the horizon. The four corners of the sealing room no longer close her in.

But the cage feels tighter than ever.

.

.

.

.

* * *

_edited: 9/23/15_


	2. Redolence

_in the aftermath of anguish, i find you._**  
**

* * *

**I. Redolence**

The leaves rustle by the garden outside her room and she stares at the rapidly congealing blood in her hands: she's been coughing up blood for some time now.

Hinata doesn't worry though. Her circumstances were somehow drilled into her mind through her father's words a fortnight ago. Coughing up blood is expected. Migraines and the occasional headache are to be expected as well.

_This is the price_, he had said.

She washes the blood off and heads outside. The hallways are relatively quiet, but she supposes she'll get used to the lack of greetings after some time. Not now though, with the taste of iron still clinging to her throat.

Hinata arrives at the hospital a few minutes later and takes everything in. The tang of antiseptic that sticks to the walls, the flurry of movement and the murmurs leave her feeling a bit restless. She takes two flights of stairs and enters the second room to the right, where Sakura is already. Hinata has always thought her friend to be rather pretty, in a determined kind of way. She likes seeing Sakura's eyes.

"Hinata-chan, have a seat." Sakura's hand motions to the couch opposite where she sits on a stool, occupied. There is a made-up bed by the other corner, with a vase of hydrangeas beside it.

"Sakura-san, umm... good morning."

Sakura puts down the files she was inspecting then turns to her. Hinata feels warm. She sighs.

"Would you like me to -"

"Ah, i-it's okay, I can... " Hinata hurriedly unties the bandage on her forehead, flustered. A moment later she feels the soft probing of Sakura's chakra and tries not to recoil. It always feels weird and pleasant and kind of warm, like bread fresh out of the oven, or tepid coffee.

It feels longer than it is before it's over. Sakura hums quietly, then reaches for a white plastic bag by the soles of her feet and gives it to Hinata after she finishes wrapping her head. "Here. The ones in white packets are for headaches, you have to take them twice a day, 10 - 12 hours between. And the plastic container is for your body in general, helps it recuperate, but of course you have to move about more and do some exercises," She looks at her worriedly then, "I suppose you've had spasms?"

"Once or twice... " Sakura's eyes are unflinching. "Maybe more."

She notes this down.

"When was the last time you coughed up blood?"

"An hour ago." This too.

"Well your body isn't used to the seal - like an infringement - and this takes time, probably another month." Her voice shifts into a lower tone, and Hinata thinks for a second that it might even sound... harsh. "The seals are bound to nerves and chakra pathways closely tied to blood vessels, primarily the reason why the sealing should be done early - mature pathways are harder to work with." She stops herself. Looks at Hinata, then looks away. Says, "Sorry."

She shrugs one shoulder. "It's okay."

(It has to be.)

When they are done, Hinata stands up from the couch.

"Thank you, Sakura-san. I th-think I'll take my leave, uhm, I still have training this afternoon." She goes for the door, mind already on her team.

"Hinata," she stops and, right foot just outside the doorway, finds herself suddenly engulfed in a hug. Sakura's words almost bury themselves in her clothes. "Have they - have your memories come back?"

"No, " a pause, and the slight huff of breath, "Chichi-ue said they probably won't."

Hinata leaves the doorway open.

* * *

She arrives at training ground five, senses tingling. The afternoon warmth traces the nape of her neck as she takes stock of her surroundings. Nothing much has changed, as far as she could tell. Small craters cover the expanse of the forest floor, clumps of grass here and there. A rough patch of road that leads to a forest. Two tree stumps to her left, and all too suddenly she moves, heel twisting as a kunai zooms by. This is a greeting.

She smiles. "Shino-kun."

"What gave me away?" He stands before her then, hands tucked in pockets. Impassive. Content.

"I saw a kikai bug on the tree stump." She stifles a giggle. "Ano, I can do some light spars and exercises, though I still can't use my Byakugan. Chichi-ue was kind enough to train me the past weeks."

"I'm informed that Kiba seems to have other plans."

"Oh? What could - hello, Akamaru-kun." Her question is interrupted by Akamaru tackling her to the ground, Kiba following behind him. He reaches them a second later, then ruffles her hair. Kiba, in contrast to Shino, is physically affectionate. It comes with having lots of dogs, he told her once.

And Hinata feels even before it crosses her mind that this is a little bit of home. Love and familiarity runs through the lines of their bodies. Shino almost always has his hands in his pockets, and Kiba never fails to show his teeth. She briefly wonders if she could find lost words in their veins. That maybe 'home' or 'friends' are etched just beneath their skin.

"It's good to have you back."

"It's only been a month." Hinata almost feels abashed. Almost.

"Hell yeah a month too long!" Kiba grins. His fangs seem to have grown longer. "Up for some lunch? Let's just train tomorrow, right now we have some catching up to do. And later," at this he hangs his arms around Hinata and a disgruntled Shino, "let's go for a run."

He smiles so wide she couldn't help but smile too.

Running with their team is something they've always done, whatever the occasion. It's simple and exhilirating. It's a form of release.

"Alright then."

* * *

The run with her team leaves her with a horrible headache, something pulsating so violently she wonders if perhaps a vessel inside of her had burst. She lightly brings a hand to her head, massages it through her temples, then decides a need for a cup of hot tea.

Despite of this, Hinata can't find it in herself to feel regret - not when she feels terribly alive. The daze that settled at the floor of her consciousness begins to dissipate, slowly, like deep sighs as a prelude to sleep. She realizes how oddly detached she has been feeling recently. Fingers skim her forehead, breaths come uneven. There are no tears.

Instead, she smiles - something possibly forced, possibly not -

_This is for Hanabi. _

It has always been that way.

And this is more than just duty or inadequacy. Hinata knows how it feels to hold something so tiny in her hand, remembers drawing shapes on her skin, on the contours of her fingers. The baby had opened her eyes and Hinata knew then, as well as she does now, what it means to be an older sister.

Their life comes before yours.

She doesn't remember much about the sealing, just that it was painful. It had been a month ago. She suffered bouts of unconsciousness for a few days after. She could barely move. It became hard to recognize herself. And now her body bears the consequences.

This is the toll. This is the price.

Hinata wonders if she knew she would lose her memories. _The seal had burnt chakra pathways_, her father had said, eyes blank, _and affected your memories_. _How far gone, I cannot tell, but rest assured I have informed those needed to be informed. _

Things are muddy in her head still, but it's getting better. She will train as she had done. This is something she could do for her body, although the same can't be said for the blank slate in her mind. But no matter. Kiba and Shino and Neji-nii said they would help.

She reaches the tea café at the edge of the dirt road. Enters. The sound of the flowing water beside it disappears with the closing door.

A waitress takes her order - a cup of hibiscus tea her home lacks - and leaves. Hinata stares unseeingly for a moment, then bows her head, fingers again massaging the sides. Just a little further and her forehead would make contact with the table's edge. She stifles a moan, bites her lip.

The tea arrives, the sound of glass against wood a loud reverberation in her skull. Her eyes close, her breath travels through her in forced, deep intervals. The face of her sister flashes through her mind. Then of her father.

A few minutes pass and then -

"For the blood," someone says, so lowly she almost doesn't hear it.

Her head snaps, turns to look, but the person is already behind the door, barely closing it. She realizes two things at once in succession: one, she had bitten her lip so hard it bled, and two, she heard not a sound from his approach - not of his footsteps, nor of his breathing. She felt no sign of ill-intent; she would have reacted had it been the case. Surreptitiously she glances around, only to find things as they were before. Even at this hour, there is barely anyone in the café. Just a few people by the counter, the pale colors on the walls, the ever-permeating scent. The strong smell of hibiscus wafts through her nose, sticks to her clothes. It feels warm.

She shifts her attention back to her tea and sees the handkerchief the man left her with. It's white, with black leaves curving along the edge - simple, the kind that she would buy. Leisurely she lets her fingers hover over the slight protrusions of the leaves, stops, then asks the waitress for some tissues to spare. _A shinobi_, she reasoned, _does not take chances_. It would be a shame to use it for such purposes anyway, the handkerchief is finely embroidered. The leaves had lines to mark their veins, and they curl at the bottom around a red... fan.

She stares at it for a while, curious. Wipes the blood off her face, then stares some more.

It's the symbol of the Uchiha Clan.

Carefully she places it in her hand - no living man would logically use this symbol for any matter at all (unless they wished for an early death) - deeming it to be safe. She has a fair amount of idea regarding who it was that gave her the cloth. And strangely enough, she feels like crying.

Hinata stands up to leave after finishing her tea, headache gone.

On her way home she tries not to think about the handkerchief, or that it smelled a little like lavender blossoms.

* * *

**.**

**.**

**edited: 9/23/15**

**Notes: **I hope to establish the relationship between Team 8, how they are important to Hinata. She's been kind of detached, and I tried to express that she's trying to cope with that, and that she's not one to mope over in misery. I was thinking if people noticed the contrast in the prologue, how she's allowed outside and yet is still caged. Anyway in this chapter I basically gave the plot already, in a way. And a bit of who Hinata is which will come in handy. What do guys think?

Anyway thank you so much for the reviews **hyuugalove, nuriiko, Breezy2319, nomore0987654 **and** Delicatelyplaced**! Seeing those reviews meant a lot to me =)


	3. The Color of Hibiscus

_in the aftermath of anguish, i find you._

* * *

**II. The Color of Hibiscus**

"One more and we're good."

Hinata nods, breath hitching, and slides into stance: left foot forward, right heel pivoted to maximize movement. Her hands shake a little from exhaustion before she breathes, takes mouthfuls of oxygen to course through her system. _One. Two. _

Another count later and she moves.

With a diagonal swipe of her arm she engages her sparring partner in a series of attacks. The speed and fluidity of her movements are barely enough to make him lose breath. She tries not to mind.

The way Neji fights, there are barely any openings. He is swift and precise, definite; almost nothing unnecessary.

Sometimes she wishes it were otherwise.

The spar doesn't last much longer - a traditional back kick that Neji parries with his arm changes the momentum to his advantage - and she is down on the ground, pinned under him, kunai on the nape of her neck. She relishes the cool feel of soil against her flushed cheeks as the sounds of late morning filter through. Neji stands from above her and extends a hand. She hesitates, but takes it in the end. "Thank you."

He gives her a brief nod before advising her to run through several katas to stretch their muscles. They retrieve the kunai and shuriken scattered in their training field afterwards. Hinata watches him while doing so, a slight smile on her face.

Again, nothing unnecessary.

She prepares jasmine tea for them and they take sips of it on the wooden porch. They are quiet; do not speak for a few minutes. "Neji-niisan," she says then, bare feet on grass, propping herself up, "Ano... would you like anything from the market? I'll be heading there, it really wouldn't be a b-bother." He considers her for only a moment.

"That is thoughtful of you, Hinata-sama, but I have already the things I need."

She stares at the sky for a moment, then shakes her head.

"It's not..." she whispers, voice as soft as the smile on her face. Neji looks at her in askance. She faces him. "Please, call me Hinata."

She sees it - in the lines of his face, the slightest down curve of his brows as he scrutinizes her. His eyes flicker to her forehead for less than a second, trying to find the connection there. This isn't the first time she made the request (and hopefully the last), but the circumstances are different now. And Neji, after a while, realizes this too.

Resignation never is and never was her fuel to be addressed without an honorific. Neji doesn't find it on her face, on the curve of her spine, on the tips of her fingers. Her stance speaks volumes of acceptance, and those are two different things. There is perhaps a bit of sadness or anger, but there is none of that weary bitterness, vile and familiar and cultivated too long.

(_This is where they're different._)

He rises, stands before her. Fingers tracing through the forehead protector his own seal, branded for the rest of his life.

"The way I see it, Hinata-sama," he emphasizes her name, eyes somewhere above her shoulder, "The person worthy of my loyalty continues to deserve it. Nothing has changed." He walks away from her then and picks up the cups, still half-full. Before his hand closes around the _shoji_ door he tells her, "I'm afraid I ran out of some _nori_," and slides the door shut. A few leaves scatter about, one landing on the outstretched palm of her hand.

So maybe there are things he doesn't do out of necessity.

The kindness in his eyes and words etches itself in her mind, permanently.

* * *

After purchasing some _nori_ for her cousin, she stops by the bread shop on the edge of the market place. Beside said shop are a few vendors with fresh fruits and grains of rice. The dirt road stains the heels of her sandals, and even before proceeding inside she smells dough, butter and a variety of flavors in the air.

"Hinata-chan, good morning." The kind woman wipes a bit of flour off her cheek. Unintentionally adds some more."We have cinnamon rolls today."

"Thank you, Chiharu-san. Have you been well?" She goes to the rack full of cinnamon rolls. They smell heavenly.

"As well as a woman like me can be." Hinata smiles upon hearing her laugh, carrying a basket filled with plain bread and cinnamon rolls. She gives her the basket for purchase, notices the chalk-like dust on her cheeks. "Uhm, Chiharu-san, you have a b-bit of flour on your face," she says, hurriedly trying to find in her person something to wipe it with.

Chiharu gently nudges her on the elbow. "It's alright dear, I have a box of tissues."

The sight of her wiping her cheeks reminds Hinata of something she'd rather not dwell on: returning the handkerchief to Uchiha Sasuke. It's currently in her pocket - the reason she forgot her own - and it's burning her through the fabric of her clothes. She sighs tiredly, pays for the cinnamon with murmurs of thanks and walks out the shop.

She'd rather return it soon.

The question is how.

One dilemma lies in her lack of interest in his activities. She doesn't remember ever giving much thought to his daily life, and is thus clueless where he possibly might be. Although this could easily be rectified by asking the few people who might know, disturbing the Hokage is out of the question. Therein lies the second dilemma: Sakura is out on a mission - and Kami-sama knows where Kakashi is or what he's doing - leaving Uzumaki Naruto, his acclaimed best friend.

Hinata can't even make the excuse of not knowing Naruto's whereabouts - she knows these things like the back of her hand.

Presenting: an excellent stalker.

Having lost some of her memories, she is conflicted on where she stands with him. Although she saw him not two or three days ago, her general state was so muddled she had no time to ponder such things. For one, she is excited, the emotion burbling softly somewhere inside, but for the most part is a mere reluctance.

Regardless, she allows herself to feel happy at the chance to see him again, for whatever the reason.

The ramen stand should still be a few blocks down the streets. Change had accumulated prominently in town, present in the infrastractures she doesn't know of. To her immediate left is an established bakery, a few meters ahead are food stands. Broken buildings. Deserted houses. Still cracked cement.

She finds it wonderful and terrifying at the same time.

A few nervous beats and she arrives. There is Naruto.

The heat of boiling water marks the ramen stand, along with the aroma of spices, meat and miso. Everything curls around Naruto in her eyes. Basking in his presence.

Unintentionally, she finds herself soaking him in, too.

"Hey, Hinata-chan!" This is said through a flurry of noodles.

"H-How are you doing, Naruto-kun?"

"Great! I should be the one asking, nyehehe."

"I'm f-fine," she stutters out, notices 'old man Ichiraku' smiling kindly at them, and orders for a bowl of miso soup.

He returns to his pot of boiling ingredients.

"Seriously though, Hinata-chan, you doing okay?" Naruto asks, face scrunching up in worry, concern tugging the corners of his lips. And she allows herself to really look at him, at his longer hair and flushed cheeks. No scars but the whisker marks are still there; broader back and eyes still the same as ever.

Looking at him after such a long time makes her feel endless.

"Not that I'm prying or anything like that... s'just Sakura-chan told me some stuff y'know? Nothing confidential of course, just some... stuff."

"What did she say?"

"Well everyone - I mean the rookie nine - knows that your memories uhm, that you don't remember much. Or some." She can't help but laugh at his flustered appearance. He's flinging his hands everywhere, chopsticks clicking together in a random beat. "Sakura-chan was reaaaal worried and so she told us about it, said she doesn't want it to be awkward for you, that we'd help 'cause we're your friends y'know?"

This is the pillow to her fall - Sakura's own brand of kindness. Naruto's happiness with Sakura is the vaccine; it stings, but it's something that's good for her, calms her down. Like the uncertainties along the coils of her every muscle went slack. Naruto's heart is his own. It did not choose her. It never did.

The steam signals her food. She picks up her chopsticks and eats.

"I really am doing okay. Things will be... confusing, b-but uhm... everyone's helping me, I'm not going to give up." She smiles at him, something just short of shy and bright.

He returns it ten-fold.

"Yeah, you won't." He gives her a fist bump.

Her heart fllutters.

He goes off into his usual brain-to-mouth rambles once he knows everything is okay, and it feels good to hear him like this - unbridled (and the tiniest bit unhinged). He tells her about his day, that he's off for a mission in two weeks with all these diplomats and money-hungry merchants, that Shikamaru will come with him 'cause he's smart and they will kick-ass and butcher all the unfortunate thugs getting in their way and that _Hinata-can, did you know, bananas are actually berries?_

"So are tomatoes. Uhm, Naruto-kun," she says, "Do you perhaps know where Uchiha-san is?"

He stops, puts his chopsticks down and looks at her for a long time. His voice turns a bit lower when he speaks, barely noticeable.

"He's usually at training ground seven or thirteen, if not he's prolly at home. He just returned from a mission yesterday."

"Thank you."

The almost one-sided conversation continues and before long both of them have to go, exchanging goodbye's and see-you-again's. She leaves with more than just the taste of ramen at the back of her tongue.

She doesn't know what to make of that look he had, but the same could not be said for the band of gold around one of his fingers.

It doesn't hurt so much anymore.

* * *

Hinata finds him at training ground seven.

Sasuke is moving in lethal circles around a tree stump, over and under projectiles with ease. He swings himself in the air; arched body parallel to the ground. His right arm pivots in an arc to deflect a kunai from behind him with the hilt of his katana, then above him, then under him. His eyes remain closed.

She makes her presence known through the slightest sound of her footfalls, though suspects he already knew. A few meters away from him and he lands on the stump, then on the ground, body still turned away. He seals his weapons in his scroll, tucks it in his pouch. His shoulders rise slightly from the air he inhales.

"Uchiha-san," she says clearly.

She doesn't know why, but feels thankful nonetheless, that she isn't so terrified of him she could hardly move. But to make up for it are her nerves, one she's trying to hide, but isn't so sure if it was succeeding. Something about him instills tension - his appearance or name or reputation, it doesn't really matter, just that it makes people feel queasy. And she never had to interact with him like this before, in the training ground farthest from the civilization.

He turns to her as soon as she speaks, stares at her bandaged forehead (quite rudely though Hinata doesn't mind), then at the tree to her left. Nods. "Hyuuga."

For a moment she is tongue-tied. Words don't form in her throat, somehow nothing she could say seems to be adequate for the situation. Hinata doesn't remember much about her mother - not as much as the average child - but she remembers enough; even now, as a branch house member, she knows (should know) proper decorum in showing gratitude, regardless of the person's identity. She has practiced this a hundred times in her head, but the words come out in a stutter anyway.

"W-Would you care for tea?" She doesn't look at him, bites the inside of her lip.

Find this to be a terrible idea.

She looks around the area to distract herself, even though at the back her mind she registers the need for them to walk together should he agree. It would have been better had he been in training ground seven, although it is highly unlikely, because his preference for this particular training ground is quite blatant, even to her. It's located a good distance away even from the general shinobi population, rendering it quiet, a small measure peace. The gentle thrum of life vibrates in the blades of grass beneath her sandal-covered feet. Wet earth and a bit of sulphur permeates the air. There's a big crater off to the side; she wonders if she could hide in it.

Buried three feet in her misery she almost fails to notice him walking away, if not for him stopping to ask, "Which one?"

"The o-one at the edge of the r-road, " She says. Hurriedly runs after him, stays just a few inches behind his back.

Her fingers are clasped together in tension, while his are tucked in his pockets. His posture is deceivingly relaxed, but somehow to her it seems almost forced. His eyes just stare ahead, never wavering, never wandering anywhere else - as if the path was as familiar to him as his own hand.

She merely follows his lead in return, and finds that the walk together, to her surprise, isn't embarrassingly awkward.

Just an unfamiliar kind of quiet.

She supposes Sasuke isn't really one for light conversation. He doesn't do things that are superfluous, like Neji. She doesn't mind, she liked the quiet, and tries not to exacerbate the situation by making a fool of herself. There's a reason he's reserved.

She distracts herself through making patterns out of rocks as they take a different route by the side of a small forest, out of prying eyes. She was sure she made out a kind of bird when they reach the familiar dirt road and enter the cafe.

They seat themselves far from the door and a waitress takes their orders, the same one from yesterday. It doesn't take long before she arrives back with them. She stares at her cup of hibiscus tea then at his assam black one. The colors are almost the same: that of clear, diluted blood. The tea makes its way to his lips and she decides to speak.

"You've been h-here before, Uchiha-san?" The question barely comes out from her mouth, the sound so low it could hardly disturb the air. She looks at his eyes for one second, then back to his hands. Gathers her resolve, and forces herself to maintain proper eye contact.

She is surprised when he looks away.

"Many times," he murmurs.

She sketches the carvings on the tea cup with her finger and he stays perfectly still, elbows off the table, posture straight. The skeletal line of her back suggests composure and elegance, although she is far from feeling so. Nevertheless, it is a vast improvement from her hunchback days.

"I h-have something of yours," she tells him, reaches for the handkerchief in her pocket - neatly folded. She hands it to him over the polished wood, and when he takes it from her, their hands don't brush.

Her tea is still half-full. "I wanted to thank you f-for yesterday. You were kind enough t-to lend it to me. I," she pauses, takes in air and continues, "I would l-like to return the favor someday." She has little trouble looking at him to show her sincerity, with his eyes stay fixated on the handkerchief.

In the back of her mind she hears her mother's voice, calm and collected and always, always kind._ Hinata_, she had once said, _the things that people do for you must be appreciated, and paid for in kind_.

"Uhm, thank you, U-Uchiha-san." She hesitantly repeats.

Sasuke doesn't respond for a long time, merely sits there with hands held together on the table. The muscles of his face barely move at all, but then after a while he says -

"I don't want it." The shock is evident on her face while his eyebrows crease. "Keep it."

Hinata tries to respond, but fails to say anything in return.

It feels as if a whole hour passes between them, with Sasuke just staring out the window at something she would probably never see, before she could say -

"B-But I - "

The look he gives her silences any protests that could come. It's the first time her eyes meet his, and they are of black stone: stern and blank. The same shade as that of his hair. The same shade as that of the sky before the dawn. Perhaps darker. Perhaps even lonelier.

"Alright," she whispers. She takes the handkerchief that he slides over to her. Pockets it. They burn her a little more now, steady wisps of flame licking at her skin.

He finishes his tea rather hurriedly and before long they both prepare to leave. Once they are outside he faces her. "Thank you for the tea," he says lowly, almost as if they were forced through his trachea. He nods at her and walks away, not waiting for a reply.

She heads home. The western sun is in the middle of descent.

_We probably won't meet anytime soon,_ she thinks with a bit of relief, not certain if she could handle it. She is proven wrong the next day.

Something inside of her churns.

* * *

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.

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**Notes**: Neji continues to call her as he always has. The bird she was able to make out is a hawk - yes, Sasuke reference. So are the tomatoes. The smell of sulphur in the training ground is due to him using lightning techniques.

It's quite noticeable, the general plot I mean. I want everyone to know early on. I'm not really trying to hide it, it's another point I'm trying to make.

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED. REALLY. I want to reply, but I have to sleep now.

Question: what do you see happening?

I just edited some grammar mistakes. =)


	4. Relapse

_it's your voice i will always call back to._

* * *

**III. Relapse.**

Kiba reaches for a slice of beef over the table and accidentally knocks down a glass with his elbow, spilling lemonade on Hinata, who would have gotten out of the way had it not been for the rather restricted space.

"Oh shi-"

It's only with Shino's reflexes that the glass doesn't land on the floor.

"You are supposed to be a ninja."

"Shit. I am so sorry, Hinata-chan! Here, let me just – "

"It's okay, Kiba-kun."

He grabs several tissues and dumps a few of them on the liquid, hands the others over to Hinata. He would try wiping it off her, but the slowly darkening spot on her clothes is near something… inappropriate. She's laughing quietly at his unease, pouring a bit of water on the dampness on her clothes. Lemonade seldom leaves stains right away; the danger comes in leaving the juice on for too long. The acetic acid present acts as a bleaching agent, especially when exposed to sunlight.

Her team is out for lunch; Shino is set to leave for a mission in Snow. They're in a restaurant in the middle of town rumored to be serving palatable okonomiyaki, with thick glass panels for windows and black marble for the floor. The light from outside still filters through, the sky a nostalgic shade of orange. The sunlight casts shadows over the table made from oak, with curves and spirals covering its expanse. And lemonade, but Kiba is working on that.

Hinata folds the tissues in half and wipes herself with small pats. Tissues tend to disintegrate rather easily, and would leave particles of it on her clothes. The action reminds her of the Uchiha's handkerchief and his arguably hasty exit. It had seemed her company was fine until it wasn't, and she didn't really know how to feel about that. She took the handkerchief home with her and placed it on her dressing table, the Uchiha crest hidden in between the folds.

_Maybe he wanted to get rid of it?_

The thought wasn't unlikely, although it stands to reason that he wouldn't have procured it had he not wanted it in the first place. Things like that were probably custom-made. The handkerchief wasn't worn out; the contrast of colors still stood sharply, the crest, crisp. It wasn't necessarily new, but it certainly wasn't several years old. He had it after the… massacre.

"Relinquish your title as a ninja."

"I didn't mean to hit it, Shino!"

"Exactly."

She definitely doesn't want to think about the infamous massacre. Through force her mind strays onto other topics, like Kiba's non-existent haircut and Shino's new glasses that looks the same as his previous one. Kiba's clicking his chopsticks at him to make a point – something about accidents being marginally better than accidents with a purpose – and Akamaru is waiting outside by the window, busy chasing random insects that are probably Shino's, because dogs weren't allowed inside. She takes a piece of okonomiyaki in her mouth and washes it down with water, then tries to calm down Kiba enough to keep him just a little bit quiet.

"…apparently an ancestor of ours put the black widow's poison to use."

"Hokage-sama keeps some of those right?" Kiba asks, twirling his chopsticks in one hand.

"She keeps them for medical purposes. Officially she has a few vials worth," Hinata wipes a smudge of sauce off his cheeks, laughing, "But in reality the amount is... different."

"Different?"

"It's assumed she has more. Why? These arachnids aren't normally found in Konoha, although a climate such as ours would permit them to grow. There is a certain limit placed to the amount of things you obtain from other countries," Shino patiently explains.

"Oh man, she could have gotten them like, you know… " Kiba waggles his eyebrows at them,expression criminally excited.

"Yes, Kiba, through means not approved of. Or it could be a countermeasure in case someone tries to steal them. How? The Hokage tower has seve-"

"Aren't there at least three rules of conduct we're, I dunno, violating here?"

"Calm down, Kiba-kun," Hinata laughs softly, "You won't get arrested, but you did interrupt Shino-kun."

"Yes. Might I remind you that I do not appreciate being interrupted."

"Yeah? You're as sensitive as a bug anyway..."

Cue in heavy laughter and a disgruntled Shino, whose hands lie folded on the table. This moment counts as one of the few when he loosens up, muscles relaxed but ready, shoulders down. His fingernails are meticulously cut like always - a precautionary measure. _It helps in holding delicate things such as insects_, he told her once. Her eyes follow the subtle marks of consideration in his well-kept hands, down to the physical marks of broken curves on the table's surface. The craggy lines running across it remind her of her stutter: the transit of her words are jagged as well.

The marks are found everywhere.

"I talked to Naruto-kun yesterday."

Slight shifts of expression appear on Kiba's face. They are of worry. "And? How'd it go?"

"It was okay. I noticed I… didn't stutter as much." She smiles. "I'm hoping not to stutter at all."

Kiba smiles even wider as Shino says, "You might not find that difficult."

"Hinata-chan, you've stopped stuttering since – since… when was it again?"

"I can't recall exactly as well. It happened gradually."

She doesn't see it, but there is a glow in her face building up from their words. Her lips are slightly parted, her breathing slow. The air she inhales mirrors the hope lodged in her chest, as if by slowing it down prevented the hope from overflowing. The happiness she finds in having lost her stutter makes her laugh. Somehow this served as a testimony – that things do change. And not always for the worst.

She knows she can do it again, somehow – that she would try, and try and try, no matter how many times it takes. She knew it the moment Kiba smiled. Her confidence may be lacking in some areas, but there are certain things she believes in. Like Naruto's promises. Like her team's faith in her.

"Thank you," she says, then repeats it, "Thank you."

"Anytime, Hinata."

A few beats of silence pass.

"So what happened with Naruto?" Kiba asks.

She eyes her own fingers as her voice comes out in a whisper. "Uhm, I saw his ring."

"… ah."

"They have been engaged for a few months now."

Shino never fails to not mince his words, and she feels grateful for it. But her tongue stays tied and she has no words to form.

She doesn't speak.

"How do you feel?"

At this she looks at Kiba, and his eyes are clear – like almost frozen water. She takes notice of it because it's Kiba, and he's always just proud and impulsive and short-tempered, with dog marks and a perpetual habit of teasing her about Naruto. Sometimes it happens – brief moments like this when his voice gets quiet but a lot rougher, when his eyes are canine in their loyalty and affection.

"I don't… It's not – It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would."

"That's good."

"We'll take it slow, Hinata," Shino tells her, exactly the way he told her yesterday.

For the hundredth time she thanks them – their casual banter and familiar company and support, their broad backs and humored sighs and even their worried gazes that tick her off from time to time. This is them taking it slow (or whatever pace she needed to cope), giving her space and taking up time and witholding some things she can't remember because _you don't have to live up to anything, Hinata_.

"Chichi-ue said that my memories probably lack about a year."

"That's... understandable."

A few minutes pass by like this and then they have to leave. They bid Shino goodluck on his mission (and to please return safe) and Kiba tells Hinata that they should go to the gathering later together. Sakura's return is today, and she would be back by then. Pleasantries in the form of hugs and back slaps are exchanged and they go their separate ways. Kiba has to return home because of the new puppies, and the sun has yet to set, so she decides to go for a walk.

Her strength isn't back by a hundred percent, not even near, but things are getting better. The training she remembers doing did pay off, and sometimes her lithe and grace catches her off guard. _More_, she tells herself. _More._ Naruto taught her this – he taught her the will, and in turn she taught herself how to use it.

She continues to walk, destination a vague thought in her head, pace slow, lost in her thoughts.

It isn't long before she feels the sharp tufts of grass by her feet, smells the faint scent of cinder wood in the air. She sees the barren stretch of cement road ahead of her, and she could almost taste the tang of abandonment curling around the place.

Just farther along the road are the gates of the Uchiha district.

She stops abruptly, feeling lost. Feeling unbalanced and unsure, wondering why she's here.

Hinata turns around and gives a heavy sigh. The gates had fine structure – the height tall and imposing, but elegant as well, with vines growing over the bricks. But this isn't the time to admire, surely. Her clan's abode was more… traditional, and the difference just caught her a little.

She walks away and manages to take exactly four steps before her form crumbles down in a fit of hacking coughs. The force building up from her stomach to flood her throat, then expelled as a vivid, vibrant red. It mars the green of grass, the paleness of her hands. Seeps through everything, beautiful in the way of angry lines against a white canvas. She realizes belatedly of her own irresponsibility of forgetting to take her medication. If her father were here he would have told her, that this - _this is the price._

She thought she had tasted desertion awhile ago – but perhaps it was really the blood. She finds it in herself, strangely, to feel grateful that she has the branch seal when she passes out.

She conviniently cuts out the part where she wouldn't have passed out had it not been for the sealing in the first place.

* * *

When she returns to consciousness, only half an hour has passed and she's already in the hospital. She feels lightheaded, but strangely giddy. Probably the effects from the IV dripping at a steady rate into her arm.

"How are you feeling?"A nurse asks, adjusting some wires by her bed.

She gives a grateful smile and says, "I'm okay."

"Good. You missed your medication resulting to a form of relapse. But that's taken care of – try not to miss them again next time, honey."

Her smile turns sheepish.

"Your father was not… informed, as per Sakura-san's orders."

She made a mental note to bake Sakura some good and delicious brownies. Or cake – whatever she likes. She had asked for a favor from Sakura that there were some things she'd rather her father not know. Luckily, Sakura acquiesced.

"Thank you."

"You can go outside in a while. Be sure to get some rest, okay?" The nurse scribbles some notes down, pats her cheek and stands up to leave. Hinata stares blankly at the white-washed wall in front of her. Even at a time like this, she's craving for some cinnamon rolls and hibiscus tea.

The nurse leaves the door ajar when she goes outside though, and her ears register a bit of conversation before the door suddenly slams open and Uchiha Sasuke is staring at her, eyes black and wide.

All her muscles at once go rigid.

For a while the only sounds she could hear are of their breaths, the soft ruffle of sheets, and the steady hum of aircondition in the room.

He takes a breath when he speaks, and his voice comes out soft and low and each syllable is pronounced so carefully that the words almost echo around the room.

"Second week of spring – what happened?"

She grips the sheets tighter as he continues to stare at her, left hand on the doorway. Even in this place of weakness he stands impassive and strong, black cloth outlining the contours his body had trained for. A trickle of sweat drips down his face, ignored. The light from the fluorescent sharpens the contrast of his skin with the rest of him, including the shadows she doesn't think he would want anyone to see.

To say she's confused would probably be an understatement, given that she couldn't grasp what he was talking about, much less the current situation. It must be evident on her face because even before she speaks his expression closes off. The hand on the doorway returns to his side. He takes a small step backward.

There is no sound until -

"Nevermind."

His eyes fall in some corner of the room, and Hinata thinks belatedly that for the first time, it finally feels as if he was talking to her. That for once, his eyes had sought hers out and stayed there - not just the air above her shoulder, or something at the distant horizon. It was something she would not have expected from a person such as him; as far as she knows, she is the only person to constantly refuse eye contact, a habit acquired from a debilitating sense of self. Sasuke seems the type to be quite shameless, cold and crude.

Surprisingly, he isn't. Cold and distant, yes, but more than anything he seems to be... lonely.

"Don't do that again," he says, cutting her off just when she finds the courage to speak.

Immediately after that he leaves, with Hinata just barely opening her mouth to ask a question she hadn't even thought of yet. It takes a while for the situation to clear itself, and for a minute all she could register is the clean, empty hallway outside her door, and the harshness of white light against the tiles.

She realizes then, somehow, that she now owes him two things: one, for his own fabric, and two, for having carried her to the hospital.

He was probably the one who found her after her miserable collapse by his compound. She brought this on to herself.

The nurse moves toward the door, but stops and looks at her. Sighs, closes the door then walks away. Hinata buries her head in the sheets, breathes in the smell of faded detergent and antiseptic. The fabric feels cool against her cheeks. She tucks her head deeper in the sheets, her propped up knees securing it in place. Slowly, like pipe water dripping from a leakage, her energy seeps out of her and into the sheets, the bed, the floor. It's as if her veins contract at the loss, other passageways closing up. Because it's tiring, dealing with Sasuke all of a sudden, especially when she's never had to interact with him before. Regardless, she cannot ignore what he did for her, try as she might. Her muscles loosen up and she hesitantly tries to think of something else.

With a soft sigh she lies back down on the bed, head nestled on the lumpy pillow and eyes closed. Whenever her mind drifts even a little on Naruto it often refuses to stop, but now more than ever she doesn't want that to happen anymore. She would give them this measure of respect, or at least try.

Perhaps it helps that thinking of him now just makes something inside of her hurt.

* * *

She returns home after an hour and goes straight to her room in the branch house. Being a branch house member, her father informed her that she need not report to him directly everyday, although he would still summon her from time to time. Among all, she has his trust - and her eyes soften at the longing to see him again.

_You are still my daughter._

The door to the bathroom opens with a quiet click, she strips off her clothes and fills the tub with water. The scent soaks into her skin, the steam drifting about. This is rest.

She dons her clothes after a few minutes and heads outside to meet with Kiba and Akamaru. He greets her with a smile and a tease, and they make their way to the edge of town, past orange streetlights and food stalls and vendors.

They arrive at their usual place to the aroma of sake and several spices in the air. The place is currently clean, which wouldn't last for long.

"What took you so long?" Ino pinches her cheeks and ruffles Kiba's hair, leading them to the tables.

"Nice to see you too, Ino-san, and welcome back, Sakura-san."

When Kiba shouts an agreement enthusiastically Hinata starts to feel that everything is so familiar, that even the cracks and the paint on the walls make the place _theirs_. Shikamaru is falling asleep and Chouji is already eating, and with her laugh, the night unfolds.

Amusedly, Hinata notes that it takes approximately two bottles of sake for Ino to get drunk – two bottles which she drank within the hour, and they aren't even finished eating.

"Naruto sure is taking his time..."

"He told me he's going to be late." Sakura says, then teases with, "You miss him already?"

Someone else is about to retort before everyone stops, the sound of a door opening interrupting their jeers.

Hinata turns to look at the doorway and sees Naruto with his usual trademark grin, an arm around Sasuke, who looks as if he wants to kill the blond. He probably does.

Apparently it isn't the first time Sasuke has joined them, since the rest of the rookies act like they always do, with shouts of 'dumbass' and 'you're late' and the usual. Naruto forces Sasuke into a chair and kisses Sakura on the cheek – a sight she avoided in the nick of time – and is then handed a drink by Ino.

The familiar curls around everything, something bright and warm and somehow, far away.

* * *

Hours have passed and Hinata pats Kiba on the head as she makes her way outside for some fresh air. Like the last time they've been here, the bar is a mess. Food and food wrappers and drinks and cups are everywhere as if on some dynamic decoration. Most of everyone's inhibitions have been thrown out the window hours ago.

Hinata finds humor in the current situation, and although horrible and wrought with shame, it doesn't stop her fom laughing, especially when Kiba tries to snuggle with Ino, only to receive a bruise in return.

She opens the door to the outside and steps into the air without the stench of saké. It feels cold on her skin as she shuts her eyes and opens them again. She's always known that Konoha was beautiful in the day, but even more so during the night. Fire flares even brighter during the dark.

A few steps more and she sees Sasuke sitting under a tree by the edge of the forest, only a few meters away. His eyes are closed, elbow propped on a knee. Everything around him is still.

Inside, she hears her mother's voice.

She sighs heavily, doesn't want to disturb him, not really. Even though he probably already sensed her. She sighs one more time, then moves to sit under another tree, just far enough away. Sasuke doesn't bother opening his eyes.

She leans against the rough bark and breathes in the smell of earth, a pleasing contrast to the taste of saké at the back of her tongue. When she hears him shift she decides to speak, and even in the silence her voice comes out soft.

"I... a-apologize for what happened awhile a-ago, Uchiha-san, and uhm..."

She breathes out.

"Thank you."

She forces her hands to remain at her sides, otherwise her pointer fingers would start doing that annoying thing again. From the corner of her eyes – she can't quite look at him yet – she notices him tense for a second then relax. Strange, really, but she doesn't find him scary like this, in this light. The glow from the moon doesn't soften his edges in the least, and his form blends surreptitiously well in the shadows, and the stillness of the night makes him more imposing than ever but those things don't matter to her, somehow. Because all she could think of was that anyone who bothers with someone passed out on the streets couldn't be all that bad. It's the human thing to do – and though people might believe otherwise, Sasuke showed her that, torn though it may be, his humanity is still intact somewhere.

It's all she could ask from anyone.

(And this is what makes her, _her_.)

She might as well give him something in return.

"Uchiha-san, uhm, is there a-anything that you would li-"

"Tomatoes," he interrupts, voice as quiet as hers. "Something with tomatoes."

Her head snaps to his general direction only to find him already standing up, heading towards the bar, presumably to pick up Naruto.

A smile forms. She hides it behind her hand. Find tomatoes to be such a strange thing to like.

She rests her head against the bark. Closes her eyes. Behind the shutters, the world is bathed in red.

* * *

The next day she goes to see Sakura in the hospital.

She enters the room and Sakura closes the door behind her. Even on early mornings such as this, the renowned medic already smells of disinfectant, and her hands are stained with ink. They're not so different in this respect; her own hands are stained with blood from training. She always tries to wash it off, but it never really disappears. Some things never do.

"And? What happened yesterday?" Sakura gives her a stern look; Hinata feels embarrassed.

She doesn't reply, and instead feels Sakura pat her on the forehead, gently. "Don't do it next time."

(Don't do that again.)

"Uhm, I b-brought something as an a-apology and to show my gratitute," hurriedly she gives the basket filled with different brownies she had baked earlier, "I know it's not much, but…"

Sakura takes the basket and peers inside the cloth. Immediately her senses are assaulted with the smell of freshly baked sweets and flour, and if her eyes are correct there are atleast three different kinds of brownies inside. Her mouth waters.

"Hinata-chan, you didn't have to," she says, taking out a brownie and eating it, "But thank you - these are _good_."

Hinata smiles at her antics.

"I'll share them with Naruto and Ino and do you want some?" Sakura takes another. "Too bad I can't share them with Sasuke, well, he doesn't really like sweets…"

"Uchiha-san is... out on a mission?" Hinata asks, ventures out a guess.

"He left just now, I think," She looks at Hinata then, "Why?"

Sakura moves to her table to place the basket of brownies next to a pile of papers. Hinata feels herself redden in embarrassment at the reminder of what happened yesterday. Because of that she made sure to take her medication a while ago – although she suspects it won't be much of a problem in the next few days. She didn't know how, but somehow Neji found out about her carelessness. He looked like a strict mother hen this morning.

"Uhm, I wanted to thank him as w-well."

"I see. I don't know how long he'll be gone though."

"It's okay, I better be going." Hinata opens the door. "It was n-nice seeing you, Sakura-san."

She heads to the training grounds with nothing better to do – she isn't allowed any missions yet for this week. Fainting yesterday certainly didn't help with her situation. She then goes through her usual katas with relative ease, small tufts of grass shifting under her weight. She sighs and wonders when she would be able to properly thank Sasuke. He's out on a mission that could last for weeks, and she feels a small pang of envy; she wanted to go on missions too.

When Sasuke finally finishes his mission in two weeks, Hinata doesn't get the chance to give him something with tomatoes – probably a pasta.

This is because her mind is filled with anxiety, and although she is placed on the recovery team and is finally allowed on a mission – it doesn't help one bit.

Shino didn't come back.

* * *

.

.

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edited: 9/23/15

**AN: **the scene in the moonlight: when Hinata looks at Sasuke, she doesn't only see his reputation, his looks and all.

Sorry for the late update! Here is the next chapter, and please leave a review guys, I want to hear your thoughts on what should happen next!

Thank you for the reviews you left me last chapter, they certainly helped with how I constructed this chapter!

Question: Do you want Itachi to live?


	5. Shino

**Author's note: **No words to express how sorry I am for this almost a year delay. Engineering school does that to you. And I am so sorry for this short short chapter, which was actually finished three days after I posted chapter three. I was hoping to make it longer, but months went by and I couldn't add anything to it. I really do read the reviews and try to follow the constructive criticisms and wishes of my readers, such as to make the chapters longer. I will do so in the future. It's just that I haven't posted anything in so long and I really want to continue this story, although I barely have the time. So I'm posting this chapter now, though it's only half done. Enjoy!

* * *

_this small measure of intimacy is barely enough._

* * *

**IV. Shino.**

The situation looks bleak.

There are two teams: one for the retrieval of the missing members, another for the completion of the their supposedly abandoned mission, as well as an investigation on the attackers.

Hinata was put into the retrieval team, alongside an Aburame and a field medic with an allegedly reliable instinct. Kiba had wanted to be placed in the retrieval team with Hinata (the argument was short and angry) but conceded with the Hokage's wishes to be the third member of the other team. The Hokage had only a few shinobi at her disposal on such short notice, and around three members were enough for the retrieval team alone. What made him agree in the end were the high chances his team would be able to find the missing shinobi too. In which case they are to contact the retrieval team immediately, and resume with their objective: the mission's completion is their priority.

"Two of our shinobi are missing, namely Aburame Shino and Tatami Iwashi." The Hokage opens her desk drawer and hands over a scroll with their information to the group of shinobi assembled before her in the office. From the stiffness of their shoulders she could tell of their anxiety, stifling the air in the room. "They were our emissaries to the Land of Snow regarding a covert operation in Sound. They were to hand over a scroll personally and retrieve another one from Snow. It's safe to assume they were intercepted."

Hinata holds her hands together to keep them from shaking, the only indication of her fear. Her chin is tilted up though her eyes are on the ground, expression fixed on her face as if shaped from clay. Or white marble. Every now and then Kiba glances at her to make sure she's okay. All of the shinobi present in the room could feel the tension coursing through their muscles and drying on their skin.

"This scroll is a countermeasure, in case the contents of either scroll were leaked. Deliver this to their leader and wait for another scroll regardless," She hands them another scroll, thick and sealed with layers of chakra, "Aoba, you're in charge. I want information on the attackers. Do not pursue recklessly. If they are stronger, then retreat. No buts." At this she glares pointedly at Kiba by the corner of the room. He doesn't say a word.

Sighing, she rummages through her belongings and fingers the rim of a bottle. Probably sake, but everyone prefers to keep their mouth shut.

"As for the retrieval team I want the Aburame to take the lead. If there's a way to find them, it's through their insects. Aburame Shino had given a distress signal with his bugs. I expect no altercations from your team, Aoba's sqaud should take care of that. If combat is required, be swift. Go over the mission scrolls I gave you before, then leave immediately. Dismissed."

Both team leaders then instruct for the team to reconvene in around five minutes at different grounds before departing. Hinata meets Kiba's eyes just as they prepare to leave, and for a moment the world stops for both of them. The sound of their pulse penetrates their eardrums and echoes in the confines of their skulls, hollow and ominous, like the toll of bells before a death march. Hinata's hands are still clammy and trembling, the rest of her body composed as he takes the smallest of steps to her. He reaches out to cup her right cheek with his palm. Takes another step. Slowly presses his face against hers, his head on the crook of her neck, hers on his shoulder. The shaking in her fingers stop, his breathing evens out. The message carves itself in their embrace.

_We will find him._

And please –

_Do not die. _

They leave the Hokage's office with Tsunade finally grabbing the bottle of sake by her side and emptying the contents, Shizune not bothering to stop her.

Hinata rushes past shinobi sentries and red pillars and quiet footsteps resounding through the halls. Past the entryway and to the roofs of several houses stacked together like paperwork, in colors of sand and scarlet and sky. The dirt catches itself in between her toes, the late morning air makes her sweat. She enters the Hyuuga compound without preamble, gathers her things and leaves for the gates.

The structure towers above her for several meters as it stands tall and imposing for all who enter and leave. It occurs to her then as she looks back at her village that including Neji, most, if not all of the rookies were out of the village. Naruto and Shikamaru left for a diplomatic mission last week, Sakura is on a medical expedition in Sand, she didn't know where Sasuke was, and Ino had drunkenly told her that she and Chouji would be training under their respective fathers for a month in who-knows-where. Without their presence the village lapses into a painting with washed-out colors in her eyes. She turns around.

The rest of the retrieval team arrive (Kiba's team had already left from a different gate, scouting the area to make sure their route is marginally safe – standard protocol), and with a nod from their leader they depart. For a while they stick to the main dirt road, but when the sun reaches past its zenith their course shifts to the denser part of the forest. Aburame Eiji instructs for the team to fall into strategic position, with him in the lead, distributing out his sensory kikai within a three-mile radius to detect any foreign shinobi and gather information. Hinata brings up the rear, byakugan constantly open though they are within their territory.

"The kikai's projection points strongest to the west, a couple miles from here." He pushes forward faster, not even turning to look at them.

What the mission scroll stated was this: Shino and Iwashi left two weeks ago, and were set to have given the scroll by last week, give or take a few days to account for most reasons of delay. The Hokage had received a messenger pigeon from Snow indicating that the scroll had arrived, and that their return should be expected by tonight. The distress signal from Shino occurred about an hour ago, and the Aburame Clan wasted no time alerting the Hokage. Both scrolls contain classified information regarding slaves and experiments done within the Sound, the extent of which they were not permitted to know. The route they had taken was most likely an altered version of the standard shinobi route to Snow, and it is assumed that they made it past the Snow country border and into the edge of their territory, given the time of the distress signal.

Regardless, the retrieval team makes sure to double check for evidence Shino might have given them. The slightest hint to their whereabouts could be hidden in the rustling of the leaves or a disturbance in the undergrowth.

It is an hour later when her byakugan finds a clue regarding the missing shinobi's whereabouts, but they were certainly not from Shino. "Something's ahead, approximately 30 degrees from the east, a mile from h-here."

They spot the blood first, marring the ground by a small tree. After confirming they're alone they follow the trail, and a couple steps more they come across a clearing, three bodies wearing Konoha forehead protectors collapsed on the ground.

The medic, who goes by the name Hiro if she remembered correctly, immediately checks the shinobi for a pulse, but none of them survived: it was a clean cut across the jugular vein and carotid artery that killed all of them.

"They're Chuunin… but someone had a strange sense of humor," he whispers, smoothing down the brown hair by the nape of his neck, "The slashes along their torso were probably done after they died, which happened about three to four hours ago… no signs of poison on the wounds."

His words are said in an offhand, clinical tone, but she hears the disgust hidden in the pauses he would make. She had always wondered if a person could get used to such scenes as this. The blood had soaked through the patches of soil near the corpses, haphazardly strewn across the small clearing. The shinobi nearest the edge lay on his front, arms over his head. He must have been trying to escape in his last moments, crawling like a snail in threat of being devoured.

Hinata makes her way beside him. Crouches down, voice detached when she speaks. "This was probably done with a curved, trailing-point knife, optimized for slashing. They're the border patrols for this area. The shinobi who intercepted Shino-kun and Tatami-san got to them first."

"No way to confirm that, although highly likely. I'll go send a message to the Hokage to pick up the bodies." Hinata watches as Hiro moves to the edge of the clearing, then turns her attention to Shino's relative.

"The patrollers in this area were killed before they could send us a warning, which probably explains why they were intercepted," he tells her. "The kikai are near here, but it's growing fainter. Their life span only lasts a few hours. We must make haste."

They rest the bodies to lean on the trunk of a tree and layer the area with chakra borders lest foreign shinobi obtain them. Before they leave Hinata turns back to look at them and allows herself reach out for a second. She nods at them solemnly, then continues with the search for her teammate.

_May your souls rest in peace._

They move faster through the thick branches, jouncing from one limb to the next. The chakra in their system flows and coils into itself intermittently, carefully measured to account for each step they make. Hinata welcomes the one-track mindset of a predator intent on finding its prey settle into her system. Air travels through her lungs and forces her restless thoughts to leave from her fingertips.

"The kikai are dying in succession – Hinata, focus your vision southwest from here, it won't be very far!"

And it wasn't. Her eyes adjust from the pressure building up at the corners and she blinks momentarily at the soothing sensation of the rhythmic throbs. A few seconds later and she takes the lead, the sudden urgency in her steps leaving deep indentations on the branches. She lands down on a protruding boulder and hurries forward, the rest of her team following behind.

They stop in their tracks.

Tatami-san was sprawled out on the ground, bleeding from a gash on his back and Shino…

"We have to stop the bleeding and stabilize them. The supplies are in my bag." Hiro is the first to move, swiftly unstrapping the bag from his back and laying it down beside him, hands already busy checking for pulse.

"What do I need to do?" She asks quietly, her voice succumbing to a tremor in the end.

"Just follow my instructions. Aburame-san, carry Tatami-san here using chakra – be careful with his head, don't jostle it."

"Although bleeding, I believe he was only knocked unconscious."

"I suspected as much. He'll be safe, unless he was poisoned, though I highly doubt that. It was the same blade used to kill the patrol guards – but we can't be sure. Hinata, unwrap some of the bandage – this has to be quick. He needs proper medical attention immediately, I can only do so much."

She does as told, then says, "Aburame-san, I don't think it will be very far… can you try and find…"

He stiffly nods, hiding his twitching fingers in the pockets of his garb. "Hai."

And she hopes so – she really really hopes so. She cannot name the sensation clawing at her chest and pushing through. It's unfamiliar, and yet she can't shake off the thought that it feels like a long lost friend – like it was stuck to her skin for years and she only got to know it now. The rest of the world dissolves into a slight buzz, and all that she registers are the medic's instructions, her gritty hands and the body slowly losing warmth beneath her eyes. Something emptier and a few degrees less than dread nestles itself at the pit of her stomach, all the way up her throat – to stay there for days.

Shino had lost an arm.

* * *

The steady beeping of the heart rate monitor washes the room in a cathartic lull. Hinata is fast asleep.

Her head rests on her crossed arms, its weight on the left side of Shino's bed, one hand holding his. A bit of late afternoon sunlight filters through the partially opened curtains, making alternate stripes of light and shadow on the hospital sheets keeping him warm. To the other side of the bed is a vase of flowers perched on a small desk, along with a few bottles of water and medicine and Shino's glasses. An empty styrofoam bowl of soup is on the floor by her chair, and scrolls upon scrolls lay open beside it.

There is a smudge of ink on her cheek, the same color as her hair strewn carelessly on the small of her back, over tired shoulders and on the bed. At times his fingers would move and she would unconsciously respond by gripping his hand tighter. His only hand.

Tsunade attended to him personally when they had arrived four days ago, the sight of blood on all their clothes prompting several Chuunin and some Anbu strolling about to call for medical help. The operation lasted almost half a day to keep him stabilized. And now he's in a medically induced coma; lacking a right limb from the elbow down.

Aburame Eiji had found his arm not too far away from his body, but for now there isn't so much the Hokage could do but wait for the verdict of the Aburame Clan. They're trying to find a way to restore his arm, through altering genetic makeup of insects to insect-fused prosthetics to making a permanent clone. The chances of Shino having both his arms are slim. When she was told this morning, Hinata had done no more than a slight turn of her head.

It says something of Naruto's influence when she had replied with the words '_I'll bet on that chance.'_

A message lacking any details but that they were safe was delivered to Kiba's team, who are scheduled to return in another week. And until then her plans consisted of only training and gathering infromatio that may help and staying by her teammate's side, wrapped in nothing but the comfort of him, alive.

After a while the sound of an opening door disrupts her slumber and she blinks, weary eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the room. She stretches out her limbs, letting blood circulate freely in her arms and legs.

"Visiting hours will be over soon, Hinata-san."

She gives a grateful nod and the medic/doctor leaves, the doorway still open. Humming quietly she tidies up the room, throwing the bowl of soup in the trash and organizing the scrolls to be placed in the desk. She takes a pill for the headache. Turns to Shino then caresses his face. Tells him to wake up soon and tucks him in like a child.

She closes the door on her way out, making sure her footsteps are quiet enough in the silence of the hospital's narrow halls.

The night is cold in its embrace, the crisp air like sharp edges making her skin brittle. Different colors of artificial lights brighten up Konoha like fireworks. Now and then she would hear boisterous laughs and jeers from people in outdoor bars. The smell of food makes her realize she hadn't eaten dinner yet, but somehow the nerves in her stomach fail to recognize appetite. Sighing, she makes her way to her usual tea café for something light to eat (or maybe just some tea).

The days have passed by like this: waiting, until every part of her became accustomed to the ache that came with it.

* * *

Shino wakes up two days later.

She was reading a book when it happened. It was his hand that initially moved, then his face scrunched up before his eyes opened. He gave out a low grunt, and Hinata fumbled and dropped the book in her haste, reaching out for him as he wakes.

For the first time in days she finally cries, collapsing against the hospital bed. The relief comes in tidal waves. Shino tears up a little himself as he touches her head with the back of his hand. Offhandly he notes that he could barely hear her cry; her reticence follows even her sorrow.

She reaches over for a bottle of water and hands it to him. He finishes the whole thing, then speaks.

"What happened?"

Hinata shifts slightly on the chair, bringing herself marginally closer to his warmth. Shino's voice sounded odd - rough and course and somewhat clogged. "Aburame-san and Hiro-san and I - we came to get you."

"What of Tatami-san?"

"Alive. He will be discharged in two days."

"Ah."

His eyes move to the window then, at the rays of orange light passing through. He takes in the dust motes in the air, the weight of Hinata's hand in his. He takes in the absence of feeling in the area where his right hand should be, as well as the sharp pain on his upper right arm. He notices how Hinata doesn't bring the subject of his missing limb up, not out of sheltering Shino from the truth or even a refusal to acknowledge it. Hinata isn't like that, and Shino understands. This is her own brand of kindness. Until he was ready to address the issue, she wouldn't speak. Shino understands, and couldn't help but think that in a way, it is both merciful and cruel. He feels himself tear up just by trying to send signals for his hand to move. So abruptly he stops, backtracks and redirects his attention. Because he knows that more than the feeling of loss was the release his bones had felt when he realized he was still alive. Hinata continues to watch him, and he knows how she read the minute changes in his expression and interpreted them correctly.

"The mission?"

"Kiba-kun was sent with a team to complete it, and they're coming back next week. Probably sooner, knowing Kiba-kun," Hinata murmurs, eyes turning softer, "He was told, and I'm sure he's doing his best to come back as fast as he can. We're happy you're alive." Although 'happy' isn't exactly the way to put it, Hinata notes to herself. What an understatement - the feeling ran more along the lines of _'we don't know what we'd do without you - thank you for staying alive.'_

"... for some reason I didn't think I would make it."

The lines on his face are loose and relaxed. He blinks slowly, as if his eyes have yet to adjust to the light. There are shadows underneath them, and perhaps there are shadows lingering behind his eyelids too. When he closes them the flashing colors don't appear, the nightmares do.

When Hinata closes her own eyes she sees Shino, both a child and an adult far beyond his years. For most of the time he was quiet, unless things that needed explanations came up and he could provide the answers. And seldom would anyone listen – they did at first, but then his words became tiring for them to listen to.

"But I had to… come back. To you. I had to come back."

She gently grips his hand tighter in both of hers. Brings it to her face, the feel of him soft and warm and alive against her cheek.

"Because you would cry. And Kiba would – he would follow the footsteps of someone we thought we knew. Revenge would swallow him – anyone - whole. And Hinata, you…" He stops, breathes in. He looks out the window again, as if somehow the words are written on the glass in sharp strokes. But the view showed him nothing, and he could feel the wetness of her tears against his left hand. There is nothing to feel on his right.

She waits patiently for him to speak, even though he might not continue. He does that sometimes, once or twice.

"You've seen that happen, " He finally says, looking at her. "You just don't remember."

* * *

To be continued.

_I will update as soon as possible. _


	6. The Things Left Unsaid

**AN:** I AM TERRIBLY SORRY, BUT YES, I AM BACK. Had to make this short, just foreveryone to know that yes, I plan to continue on with this story. Anyway, Enjoy! Read and Review please!

* * *

Chapter V. _The Things Left Unsaid._

* * *

Shino's mission debriefing took place inside the hospital ward.

The Hokage herself came a few minutes after she was informed he had awoken. Besides the fact that Shino's condition was of concern due to the difference in his body structure, he was also next in line to be the Aburame clan head. It was a show of medical affair just as much as it was political. Unfortunately Hinata was not privy to both matters, and was therefore asked to leave the room, after making sure that yes, Shino was going to be just fine and yes, she can still visit him and _yes_, he will be discharged from the hospital within a week. He was to take therapy sessions with Shizune for at least a month, and was therefore banned from missions for the whole duration of his recovery period. Meaning, there would be no missions for team 8 as well. She would need to take solo missions – something, quite surprisingly, that she actually looked forward to – or go with other shinobi for her income.

On her way out of the hospital, she comes across Uchiha Sasuke.

It was hard not to notice him with stares following his every move. She stops, plastic bag barely shifting at the change. Inclines her head at him and nods.

"Hello, Uchiha-san."

_Revenge would swallow him whole._

He stops a meter away from her, impassive eyes still staring somewhere above her shoulder. He seems to hesitate for a moment – it is only because Hinata is a Hyuuga through and through and is keen about details does she notice this – before giving her a stiff nod. He seems to not want to talk to her. Or was perhaps in a hurry. It made Hinata balk.

"A-Ano, you have an appointment?"

"Hn." A negative.

"I see." He places his hands in his pockets and waits for her to continue. Taking a deep breath, Hinata clears her throat quietly, mouth strangely dry.

_And Hinata, you've seen that happen._

"Would you l-like for me to prepare you dinner tonight?"

At this he stiffens in a way that was obvious even to those who weren't of Hyuuga blood. But Hinata couldn't take back her words, neither does she want to, out of necessity. Maybe it was the Hyuuga pride in her speaking, but she doesn't like being in anyone's debt. Gratitude is given where it is deserved.

His eyebrows crease minutely, and Hinata thinks of two things: one, Sasuke was actually quite expressive, and two –

He was indeed physically beautiful, despite the discomfort evident in his features.

"My place. At 7:00," he quietly says. He hesitates again, and Hinata suddenly has the impression that he wants to ask something, before he shakes his head, walking past her and into the Hospital doors.

Hinata sighs. Then remembers that 7:00 is only a few hours away, given the sun's position in the sky. She pauses for a minute to stare, before blinking her eyes and moving away from the hospital and to her home.

There are things needed to be prepared.

_You just don't remember. _

She hums quietly as she passes through the trodden dirt road. Breathes in and out, timbre and tune quiet enough for only her ears to catch. Most of everything about her is unassuming, except maybe her appearance. (Her self-esteem is by far the worst out of Konoha 12, but a Hyuuga is a Hyuuga, and her looks were but a side-inhertiance). Indigo streaked dark hair and even darker lashes. White skin and lilac-white eyes. A pink mouth.

And now a bandaged forehead branded with a seal.

She supposes things could have taken for the worse though. The itch on her forehead only reminds her of its absence on her sister's. Hanabi – hot-tempered and rash and _little Hanabi_ – did not deserve the mark of the Branch (nobody did, but these are traitorous thoughts that always keep coming). Hinata would sooner die than subject her own sister to something she would not want to experience herself. Hanabi was meant for greater things.

She hasn't seen her for a month now. Hanabi could not face her.

_Imouto-chan. Do I repulse you now? _

Hinata hides a smile behind her hand; because of course this was not so. Not completely, at the very least. Because Hanabi was Hanabi, untamed and protective, could not for the life of her accept the love and sacrifice that will always be given to her.

_How many times can you go through this?_, her father had asked, on the night of the sealing. Blood pouring in rivulets down her ears. Tears caked dry beneath her eyes. A hand gripping her chin, calloused and rough and impossibly warm. _How many, Hinata?_

A scream –

_For her, as many as needed._

She stops by the gates, the door opening with a loud, grating noise. Closes it, and makes her way through the front garden. The soles of her shoes are worn down and dirty, so she rubs them against the grass. When she looks up, Hanabi is there, a basket of herbs in hand. It seems she is just as surprised to finally see her.

Before Hinata could call out though, Hanabi's face twists into an angry scowl, eyes slanted and eyebrows forming a crease and mouth bared. She throws the basket in her direction and leaves for the Main House, where she could not anymore follow.

She hears a loud thump, and a cry, followed by more thumps, each one heavier than the last. A temper-tantrum.

(Hinata does not know that Hanabi had expected for her to follow, before remembering she is not allowed.)

_As many as needed – and more._

_._

* * *

.

"I did not expect for you to be here, Uchiha-san."

Sasuke gives a one-armed shrug. The paper bag he carries with him jostles at the motion. He is leaning by the doorframe, both hands tucked into his pockets.

"May I ask what those are?"

"Stuff," Sasuke answers, then more reluctantly, "…hers."

He moves from his position by the wall, makes his way to Shino's bedside. Places the bag by the desk, then puts both hands in his pockets again.

"Give them back."

"I can't."

His eyebrows raise minutely. "You'll get better."

Shino laughs once, the sound low and quiet and sudden. It does not resemble a normal laugh, although it is the most he can give. He rarely finds anything humorous, and when he does, it is mostly dry and morbid. He stares at Sasuke – figure relaxed and expression perhaps incredulous and mostly annoyed – before he exhales a gust of air. It is typical of him, he thinks, ever since he has gotten to know the man, to reassure without the intention to do so, to be blunt and so damn honest even when unwarranted.

"I appreciate your sentiments, but I won't do what you're asking of me."

"You will."

"The reason is simple, Uchiha-san," Shino continues, ignoring Sasuke, "She gave those to you, didn't she? Ergo, those are yours. Why return them?"

"I don't need them."

Shino stays quiet at that.

Sasuke leaves before long, and Shino does not stop him. Both of them never were ones for conversation either way.

He reaches for the bag, not sure of the contents, and takes out something from inside with his one arm.

It's a jar, short but wide and filled with something liquid and dense and green. Shino recognizes it even before reading the inscription written with an elegant script:

_For headaches and migraines. External usage only._

He takes out another jar of the same shape, although this time it contained some dark-yellow powder, interspersed here and there with crushed leaves. This one read:

_For muscle pains. Mix with hot water until liquid. Taken orally._

He does not know why, but his hand trembles slightly when he returns both jars inside the bag. There are other jars inside, but he has seen enough. Somehow it's as if Sasuke is beside him again, and he hears him say what he surely meant before he left.

_I don't need them, but she does._

Shino returns the paper bag by his bedside, makes himself comfortable against the sheets for a long sleep. He dreams of her hands pounding and molding different ingredients into one, something insignificant, she had said at that time, for the person who _is_.

.

.

* * *

.

.

Constructive criticisms are welcomed. Yes, ifyou have noticed, this chapter was rushed. But...


	7. Aftertaste

**AN**: Is that an update? Oh yes it is! Hot off the press, er, my laptop. Unbeta-ed. And. Yeah. BUT I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS CHAPTER GUYS. As always, please leave a review. They feed me and inspire me to write more.

Thank you so much to everyone who followed this story and left a review! I would like to apologize for only updating now after a long time. And as for those asking for longer chapters, I erally want ot make them longer, but for now I htink I have to settle foshort ones that I can post as soon as possible, since I'm a bit busy. ANYWAY, ENJOY!

...I'd also like to ask on what you think of their interaction. I left a lot of things that have to be read in between the lines. =)

* * *

**VI. Aftertaste.**

* * *

_distant waters move as turbidly as_

_my heart_

_whenever you speak._

* * *

The throbbing in her head is gradually getting worse.

The first spike of pain causes her to cut off a bit of skin from her fingertips. Hinata quickly goes for the sink to wash off the blood, and then proceeds to wrap two of her fingers in disinfeted white cloth. She returns to the kitchen, expertly cutting the knife through the remaining slices of tomato for dinner. Every now and then her eyes would close from sheer pain, but not once did her hands falter from the task.

She collects together the sliced tomatoes and mashes them up, making sure their juices mix well into the simmering pasta sauce. The noodles are almost done, and she prepares the final touches to the meal. Gathers the glass containers and turns off the fire.

She places everything inside a paper bag and sets off for the Uchiha Compound, bowing now and again to some members of her family. Hanabi is a constant thought at the back of her mind, ironically in sync with her pulsating head.

Her thoughts adrift, it isn't long before she comes across the familiar stretch of cement road. She hesitates a bit at the sight of Uchiha Sasuke leaning against the vines and bricks, but forges on.

"Good E-Evening."

She looks at the ground, realizing she had somehow forgotten that she didn't know where he lived among the mass of (bloodied – haunted - _painful_) empty houses.

Sasuke doesn't reply, just steps forward. Left foot shuffling a bit, before going past the looming gate.

She follows quietly, to his right and half a step behind.

She tries not to look much. The compound is still being restored, although there wasn't much damage inflicted initially, if she remembered right. Just blood splattered on the walls. Gallons and gallons of it.

The houses to her right were clean and in good condition, as opposed to most of the ones on her left. The restoration seemed to have started on this side – since when, she didn't know – and were yet to finish those on the other.

The contrast is made all the more vivid by the solemn light of the moon. Broken glassware and upright lamps. Dark, new wood and a tattered sign – the slash right in the middle of a large, red fan.

She wonders, offhandedly, if stepping foot inside their home is tantamount to disrespecting them in a way. If the souls are made restless at the sight of her eyes. If the souls could be cursing because of her seal. _An abomination_, they had once said, _a blatant disgrace_.

Head bowed and determined, she falters and stops in front of a small, quaint house. Lifts her eyes to look. A front garden with a pond, stone steps marring the green. Wooden walls and doors and a tiled, red roof. The porch spacious, with a hummock tied securely to one side. But what catches her off guard is the faint scent of something distinct from cinder wood and dry air.

She reaches her hadn out a bit, takes one step forward. It smelled like –

"On - Hyuuga."

She hastily turns forward again. Notices that Sasuke is already a few meters ahead of her.

"What were you doing?"

He has both hands in his pockets, head tilted just so. Something about his stance puts her off. It felt heavy and intrusive.

Like he knew something she didn't.

"Gomen… it was –" _what was that scent?_ "-nothing."

He raises one eyebrow at her, then strides forward again. She hurries to catch up, and this time they both stop at a much larger house, perhaps the largest one in the area.

She notes, unconsciously, that it was the only one with lights.

The clan head's residence.

Sasuke pulls open the small gate and steps inside, footfalls quiet against the wide stepping stones leading to the front stairs. The grass was trimmed, the expanse of the garden surprisingly filled with potted plants and rose bushes. And the place was clean, the wooden and stone structures blending in colors of cream and red and brown.

Inexplicably, her throat clogs. Muscles locking in place.

_I can't…. move._

"Hyuuga," Sasuke calls for the second time, leaning by the doorframe, voice low and unhurried. The lights are brighter inside, almost harsh. "What's wrong?"

The clear sight of thick tatami walls and low tables and empty space doubles the pounding in her head.

She flinches.

"Ano, p-please excuse me for my behavior, U-Uchiha-san. I was just… taken aback." Hinata enters, and closes the gate softly behind her. Sasuke makes a move as if to approach her, but then decides better of it. His expression seems to have… closed off, more so than before.

He doesn't say anything. When they are both inside and have taken off their sandals, he just looks at her once before asking for the paper bag from her hands.

Her eyes lower as his hand proceeds to take hold of the edge of the string. Eyes tracing the long fingers and bony knuckles, the single line of scar all the way to the arm, and the way his wrist pivots a little.

The careful way their hands don't touch.

"I w-wanted to apologize f-for the trouble I caused when I… " her voice becomes a whisper by the end, and she shifts little, "But more than that, I wanted t-to thank you, Uchiha-san."

Sasuke doesn't speak, just nods at her once, a sharp jerk of the head. He doesn't look at her either, just stares at the space above her shoulder. He rarely does.

For a while they just stand there, in the middle of a wide, empty room. Flourescent light hanging overhead. The silence stretching, filling up the space.

Hinata clears her throat.

"M-May I make some tea?"

He glances at her again.

"…Will you stay?" His eyebrows crease a little, hand curling just a little tighter on the string.

"If y-you would like."

He remains quiet for a while, before turning around and moving further into the room. "I only have chamomile."

The kitchen had most of the essentials, but barely anything more. One long counter had everything, and in the center of the room was a low table, already with two plates and a fork laid out on it.

Hinata wisely doesn't comment at the sight, although she found the utensils strange.

_He knew it would be pasta?_

She doesn't think much on it, just starts filling the kettle with water when Sasuke tells her to look for a cylindrical glass container in the cupboards. He leaves the kitchen, and she waits for the water to boil.

When he returns, she has already prepared both cups of tea and is sitting by the table, sipping her own.

He sits across from her. Places two pills of a brand of painkiller by her hand.

She accepts both with a stuttered 'thank you,' face red, before darting curious eyes to his form.

He merely shrugs, hands already taking out the salad, noodles and the sauce from the bag. "…You were rubbing your head a while ago."

She bites her lip, tension running through the lines of her musles. Waiting for the duller ache to come.

Nervous.

"…Itadakimasu."

"Itadakimasu."

She takes a bite only after he does, watching for his reaction. But his expression doesn't change. He just puts his hand back down on the table, perhaps gripping the fork a little tighter than usual.

Her throat feels dry then, something she remedies with a small sip. Her hands tremble in the slightest.

"It tastes nice," he murmurs to her, then more reluctantly, "Relax."

Surprisingly, Hinata does calm down, shoulders sagging a bit, the bitter tea tasting wonderful on her tongue.

"Arigato."

They continue to eat in relative silence for a while, before she bravely inquires him of something she noticed earlier, when she was looking for the tea.

"Uchiha-san, y-you seem to have a lot of… instant ramen."

Sasuke pauses, mouth going slack, eyes finally on her. Then they narrow in comprehension, sharp nose scrunching just a little, the corner of his mouth going up in disdain. Then –

"That bumbling idiot."

She gives a surprised laugh at that, something almost loud, before dissolving into soft giggles.

She looks down. Purses her mouth. "Ano…i-it wasn't you?"

He looks to the side in disgust. "Of course not."

"Naruto-kun seems to h-have taken it upon himself to restack your… supplies."

"Always."

Her eyes crinkle in the corner.

"You won't ever go hungry, Uchiha-san."

He exhales in irritation. "I'd rather go hungry."

Hinata smiles again. Takes another bite.

"Uchiha-san despises ramen that much?"

He gives a stiff nod, chewing on her pasta.

"Hmm," she bites her lip, trying to stifle a laugh, "But you've still eaten it…. more than once?"

"…Had no choice."

"Ahh."

Hinata takes two more bites of pasta. Sips at her tea, now tepid on her tongue.

"When was the last time you ate ramen, Uchiha-san?"

She smiles at him, something just short of shy, her head bowed.

He gives her a betrayed look in return.

Hinata exhales a bit, lips refusing to go down. Before she knew it all the tension had left her body, her head no longer pounding a mile a minute. The awkward, stifling atmosphere before had digressed into something warm; something tolerable – something that settled on her shoulders and wandered into the spaces between her fingers, light and unobtrusive. Calm and vaguely familiar.

She feels it even as she eats, even as she unconsciously runs a free hand through her hair. Feels it siphoning through in the bitter aftertaste of tea. In the small crack at the edge of the table, in the gleaming pots and silverware.

She feels it, perhaps even stronger, in the blue of his shirt. The paleness of his collarbone.

"You weren't stuttering."

The sound of his voice.

"I-I'm sorry?" She asks in surprise, caught off guard.

He looks at her for a second, then back down at his fingers.

"It's nothing," he says, remaining silent for a while, expression confused, jaws clenched tight.

After a minute he decides to pursue the issue. "Awhile ago. You stopped stuttering. Why."

Hinata looks down. She never noticed, until he mentioned it.

Sighing, she gives an honest, "I don't – "

"Nevermind," he cuts her off, then quietly, "… Thank you for the food."

She wanted to tell him _no, you don't need to thank me,_ but decides better of it. Instead she just nods. Whispers, "Hai."

They move to gather the plates, Hinata placing back her glass containers inside the bag, Sasuke moving the rest to his sink. She offers to help him wash the dishes, but he shakes his head once, offering no room for argument.

She bows a little then.

"I w-wish you well, U-Uchiha-san. Goodnight."

When she is near the doors to go outside, Sasuke calls. "Hyuuga."

She turns to him. His eyebrows are creased again, eyes as dark as ever.

"I'll walk you home." Hinata hesitates, before acquiescing.

He moves to open the door, then follows after her. Steps down from the stairs, goes outside the gates. Together they move past houses upon houses, with tendrils clinging along the walls, wrapping up the columns. Their shadows the only ones in the compound.

It isn't long before they are standing in front of the gates of her own.

Breathing in, she inclines her head to him again. Says another, "G-Goodnight, Uchiha-san."

He turns around and moves back the way he came. She opens the latch and proceeds inside, and is about to push the gate closed when she hears him stop, calling out to her.

Curious, she looks back at him.

He is facing her, feet apart and hands in pockets. Eyes on her shoulder again, before they move for a single second to her own.

He gives her a stiff nod, expression a millimeter away from looking wounded. Then, so slow it almost doesn't form - a smile. Something so little, and vague and slight that, if she weren't Hyuuga, she wouldn't have seen it.

"Take care of yourself," he whispers.

Swallowing and unable to speak she only nods, before finally closing the latch from the inside.

Her expression tightens in confusion then, the throbbing in her head returning with greater force. Because even with a massive migraine and lacking memories, Hinata is sure that she has only ever seen that kind of smile a few times in her life. It was the kind her father often wore, ever since her mother died. The kind she had witnessed Naruto give her when he told her he was okay, during the years that Sasuke was gone. The kind that was in pain, tilted in a way that spoke volumes of having lost something that was terribly, terribly missed.

.

.

* * *

.

TBC


	8. Monochrome

**AN:** I wish I could have updates sooner, but here it is! 'Was kinda hard to write this chapter, but oh well. After reading this chapter, what do you think will happen next? Read and review!

.

* * *

**VII. Monochrome **

_(if what you felt was true)_

* * *

Wafting through the air, the scent of lavenders and pinetrees and vanilla warming up her skin. The bathroom is thick and humid from various oils poured onto her bath; the combination something achingly gentle and, maybe just a little bit, blue.

Small droplets of water on her skin. Hair dark and matted, eyes at half-mast. Dusk a silent affair, with slivers of moonlight shyly filtering through the blinds.

A tiny wrist movement sends the water into ripples, and Hinata thinks then, without visible reason why, that when something is gone, it never truly comes back.

She bites her lip and shifts a little. Tries to pinpoint the cause for the emptiness in her stomach; something not quite physical, almost temporal in its wake. Like a dense object surreptitiously crawled and settled in the middle of the night, massive and altogether without form.

_Like gravity and falling down while asleep,_ she thinks. _Like Okaa-san's voice when she bid me goodbye._

She sighs and bows her head. Submerges herself more in the water, until only the nape of her neck feels the sharp, almost cool air.

_It must be the drugs._

She indulges herself for a few more minutes, before deciding to get up, water falling in rivulets down her skin. Reaches for a towel and dries herself then. Drapes on a white night gown, returns to her room.

She downs the now-cold tea she prepared earlier in two gulps, before her eyes move to the paper bag of herbal remedies Shino had given her earlier.

There were eight small jars and four varieties: for headaches, muscle pains, sore throats and bouts of insomnia. The tea she just drank intended for her muscle pains, tasting bitter and sweet at the same time.

Shino told her that although she doesn't remember it, it was she who made them, as evidenced by her neat writing on the labels. This wasn't surprising, but what caught her off guard was that supposedly, they were her own concoctions.

_"What's with that expression, Hinata? You made a lot of them in the past year."_

And she probably did. With just a look on the jars, she could already list a catalogue of ingredients.

_"Ano, thank you, Shino-kun. But how did you get them?"_

_ "I… was there when you made them. I asked a… friend of mine to bring them over." A small smile appears on his face. "You should use them, Hinata, their properties make them competitively potent. And you… you worked really hard into making them."_

Before she left, she promised to bring him winter melons the next time she visits.

Sighing, she moves the cup to the far end of her table, then takes a scroll on her clan's techniques from her desk. Reads it, with nothing else to do.

She is just about to start on set four when she stiffens. The shoji door to her room slides open and Neji enters. A large gash from his right shoulder down gets her moving to retrieve the box of medical supplies.

Neji sits himself upright on a mat by her bed and removes hi s ANBU mask. Methodically cuts down the pieces of cloth stuck to the wound. His expression is calm, as if they were doing nothing more than naming Kages.

She settles herself beside him. Gently takes his arm and stretches it slightly towards her. Cleans the wound first with a water-soaked cloth.

"A small kunai?" She asks quietly.

"…Hai."

Hinata hums lightly, using sterilized tweezers to remove bits of debris. The gash is an angry, jagged line. Like a single streak of Chidori, brilliant and sharp against the earth.

"What happened?"

"My teammate," Neji begins, "almost died."

"... But he didn't."

A single nod.

She carefully pours antiseptic all over the wound, making sure it won't spill. Wipes off the excess, then unrolls a long strip of bandage.

"Death is but a single intake of breath," she murmurs to him, careful hands wrapping up his wound, "Thank you for staying alive."

Hinata returns the tweezers to the box. It is clean and silver, a stretch of light on its surface. Neji's voice is low, dry as husk. Contemplative and slow and quiet, as though only the thinnest gossamers would break upon its tone.

"It happens to the best of us, its inevitablity the essence of it, and… it has always been a meter away, constant and lurking – but now the distance was reduced to a single inch," he continues, before stopping, eyes blank and directed on the wall. Thinking.

"… Should I have felt nothing instead of fear?"

Whereas before she was sitting to his right, Hinata situates herself then carefully to his front, their knees a few centimeters apart. Peers into his eyes, so similar to hers.

"..Is that what you felt? Ano… afraid?"

"That he would die."

"But?"

"Even so, his death would not have been a great loss. Not to me, in any case."

"You wish to have felt… something more?"

"That's not the case, no." He shakes his head once, a few locks of hair falling over his shoulders, then forges on. "If I view his death to be nothing more than unnecessarily unfortunate, wasn't my fear pretentious then? "

She bites her lip as she continues to stare into his eyes, never wavering. He gets the impression that it wasn't just his irises she was looking into, but his soul. Always, into his soul.

"Nii-san, I… I don't think you were afraid that he would die."

Her hands are on his wrist as she carefully chooses the next words. Fingers lightly tracing the protruding veins. Her voice is soft and kind, like that of a mother, with no hint of disdain, or scorn, or even judgement. Just a tinge of wonder, as though she found something peculiar. Whenever she talks like this (free and comfortable and free), he listens. Sometimes he thinks he could listen to her for as long as he lived.

"No," she shakes her head a bit, "You weren't afraid to lose him."

"But I felt it. Fear."

"Not of his death… but death, in general. Not his. Not even yours… just death."

Her fingers stop at a point on his wrist, feels the steady rush of blood through his veins, his skin. Neji exhales for a second, and all else is quiet.

"I don't understand," Neji says, although the opposite is true. The moment the words left her lips he felt the sudden dislodge of weight from his mind, to settle in his stomach. Neji knows it to be the truth. Hinata knows the same.

When she speaks, it is at once hesitant and so, so sure of her words.

"Perhaps uncle - uncle's death, nii-san, was the purest form of loss you've ever known. Perhaps because of it, loss to you was never as simple as it is for everyone, and… and you've come to associate loss with death." Hinata reaches for his elbow. Grips it tightly.

Lets go.

_And death, with loss._

"In any case, if it's something you really feel, then it must be true." Hinata shakes her head. "Otherwise, there would be… no truth to happiness."

Neji, in a rare moment of affection, rests his forehead on her shoulder, their bodies still a significant distance apart. Her hand on his elbow, her left knee brushing against his right – their only other points of contact.

Hinata continues speaking softly, eyes far away. "Nor to pain. Perhaps even – "

"Even what?" Neji asks, for she had stopped for too long.

"… Even longing."

He raises his head. Looks at her and says, "And do you long for something?"

He wonders, somehow, if he the question should have been _who do you long for?_

"I don't know," she replies, "Perhaps my memories."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I can't distingush the most recent ones."

"Hinata-sama," Neji calls out, voice stern, "Do you remember what _for_?"

"Not the specifics, no. But I know it was for Hanabi," she smiles, a slight uplift of the corner of her lips, a softening in her eyes, "Always, for little Hanabi."

He retrieves his mask. Sets it on his lap, then traces out the protrusions. The holes for the eyes. The slit for the oxygen to pass through. The line of the mouth.

"Why have you never asked anyone what you don't remember?"

Whereas before her stance was relaxed, now her muscles are rigid. Tense.

He realizes the answer to his question before she utters the words out loud.

"Maybe because… I want to believe I can remember them myself."

Hinata shrinks upon herself then. Raises her knees to her chin, curls her arms around her sides. Her eyes travel on the carpet below her feet. Then on Neji's wound. His black fabric is stained with blood, some of them not his. The strands of his hair are lighter than hers, perhaps even a different shade. His was brown, and hers – blue. Like that of midnight, when everyone else besides their kind was asleep, with only the song of insects to keep them awake.

She remembers her father's words, stern and quiet and just a little bit sad. She was barely able to focus on anything back then, but his voice was crisp and clear. That same cutting quality sharp enough to slice through her nerves. _Along with the burning of your seals, was the burning of some of your memories, Hinata. They were not repressed. Or dislodged. They were _burned,_ perhaps with not even a trace of them left. _

_It would be best if you do not expect them to return, as they probably will not._

"Is there no hope for me afterall?"

A moment's pause.

"Hope is as foolish as the desire that fuels it," Neji tells her, "But it is far stronger than almost anything you can feel."

She remains still; unmoving.

Despite of this, he continues. "The clan heads declared no hope for you, when you were young and believed yourself weak. But then you became an heiress anyone would be proud of, your father included.

… Perhaps that should be your measure of hope."

* * *

A few days later her father summons her to his room. The gravity in the pit of her stomach is growing as steadily as before, so gradual that she wonders if she would even notice if it has finally sucked everything in.

The shoji door - plain and white as their eyes - opens with the slightest of sounds, and she ushers herself in. Her back is straight, her head, bowed.

Hiashi is sitting calmly on one side of a low mahogany table in the middle of the room, the carvings on the legs intricate and well furnished. He sets down a cup of black tea to his right, and nods for her to sit before him. She does so with little sound.

"Have you been taking your medication as prescribed?"

"H-Hai, Chichi-ue."

She takes a sip of the tea set down for her. Savours the bitter taste of it on her tongue, the scalding pain a twisted reassurance.

"Have there been any problems?"

A slight shake of the head.

"Then I want you reinstated into ANBU when it is already possible."

Her eyes flick sharply to his, her muscles stiffen, and she stays quiet. Waits for him to continue; her father always has more to say.

The clarity in her eyes makes him curious, and in return his own eyes narrown in the slightest.

"How much do you remember?"

"Only that I passed the exam, Chichi-ue, and s-several missions afterwards." She bites her tongue then for her stutter, and waits for her father to speak.

"What squad?" Hiashi asks, eyes moving down to her clenched hands, then back to her face.

"The information is c-classified…"

Hiashi loosely waves a hand in the air, even as his eyes are a tiny bit sharper with approval at her defiance. "Nonsense, I was not asking about your teammates. Now, what squad?"

"… Squad 2, with reconnaissance as specialization," She quietly tells him, after a whole minute of careful deliberation on her part. It was always a losing battle with her father.

He takes another sip of his tea. It was as he expected. When he sets the china down, the sound echoes as sharp as a jagged edge.

"You were on another squad for the latter part of the past year. I assume it is where you will be placed again."

She gives a stiff nod.

Hiashi doesn't miss the way his daughter's hands tighten, the way her jaw locks in the slightest. It is always the minute details in Hinata that give her away. The lowering of her eyes is a sign of protest. The rigid posture, a scream.

_What must it be like? _Hiashi thinks. _To have the familiar turn into the unknown?_

"Sakura-san adviced two more week's worth of rest before any heavy training. You may seek me afterwards if you so wish."

Hinata lightly bows her head. "Hai. Arigatou, Chichi-ue."

Hiashi could recall a time when even a lack of disapproval was enough to make her pass out from relief. When a compliment or any kind of offer from him made her red with joy. Now he could see none but the tiniest traces of it, and though she may not remember, Hinata had grown and become a woman while his eyes were away.

_I protect those I love, Chichi-ue. Please, give me the branch seal…_

"I could arrange for you to be in another squad."

Her eyes, previously on her tea, return to his own sharply. Hiashi, with his political power as the Hyuuga Clan Head, could request from the Hokage a favor for his daughter without much trouble, especially considering the circumstances. Because it is highly probable that the unknown would prove to be a heavy burden on Hinata, of meeting expectations and living up to a past she knew nothing of, with people she knew before but can't remember now – the same people who might even know her better than herself. It is a burden that could hinder her further growth. Something akin to a battle wherein she only had her barehands, whereas her opponents had a myriad of sharpened weapons, already poised to rip at her flesh.

But she is a Hyuuga, through and through. Her hands are all she needs.

_… And I will wear it with honor._

She takes another sip of her tea while he just stares at her, unflinching. _Now what would it be, musume? _Hiashi asks himself_. Would you choose practicality? _

"Thank you, Chichi-ue," she murmurs.

_Or would you face it head on?_

"But there is no need."

* * *

It happens around two weeks later, when she is about to start on her heavy training to fully get back in shape, after reassurances from Sakura that although headaches would likely still occur, her muscles were as good as new.

She is on her way to a private storage room in on of the corners of their compound._ Most of your weapons and training gear are kept along with your ANBU uniform_, her father had said. _They are inside a storage scroll with your name as the label. You may peruse them any time you wish._

She passes through the entrance after sliding open the shoji door, closes it once inside. The room is wide, with the walls covered by large closets to keep both storage and academic scrolls. The closets were made from mahogany and cherry wood, the reddish-brown tint a contrast to the stark white of the room.

Hinata opens a set of drawers from the closet near the left corner of the room, which had been hers for a very long time. The scrolls were labeled by year and by use, and she runs a light hand through them, the feel of paper pleasant against her fingertip. _Topical Use of Shumasenji Leaves. Various Techniques for a Water-type Hyuuga. A Compilation of Combination Hand Seals and How to Shorten Them. _She stops her hand upon the edge. Runs her eyes through the scrolls again to make sure.

There isn't a scroll under her name.

She browses through them again, ignoring more than once the urge to read some of them - the _Adverse Effects of Constant Use of Hand-based Chakra and How to Mitigate Them_ was particularly interesting - when she stops once again, this time on an unfamiliar scroll.

_Dove._

She takes it out, and pours her chakra to unleash the contents. She carefully goes through them, taking note of the good number of high-grade kunai and medical senbon. When she finds her ANBU uniform she pauses her cataloguing of weapons, unfolds her it on her lap, the black fabric soft yet not easily worn down. Her metal plates seem to have been changed a few months before, since it would have been in a far worse shape had she been using it for almost two years. She stands and reaches for it, only for her attention to be caught by an almost inconspicuous object right next to it.

What follows then happens in quick succession.

Her hand closes around the object as she hears a set of footsteps getting nearer to the room.

A sudden spike of pain goes through her head, immediately building up in intensity, and the object falls down with a loud thud.

Her knees give out soon after, the set of footsteps grow louder and frantic.

The shoji door opens hastily, and Hanabi is there, shouting "Onee-san! Onee-san!" as she pulls her to her lap.

But Hinata doesn't hear her through her screams.

* * *

She had passed out soon after, and is now sleeping quietly on her bed.

Hanabi carried her there.

Hinata doesn't know, but after making sure of her well-being Hanabi had gone back to the storage room to return all her weapons and uniform into the scroll - all except one:

A chokuto with a white handle and a matching scabbard, with a thin strip of black running down the middle, and a small Uchiha fan near the base, its color a glaring red against the monochrome - something, Hanabi supposed, Hinata could only have received from Uchiha Sasuke, back when she had loved him with all the love that she could give.

* * *

.

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.

_TBC_


	9. A Limb's Worth

**AN: **Fresh off the press! I need a small quote, by the way, for the next chapter. Suggestions are very much needed! Will try to update consistenly, but will likely be sporadic. Please bear with me.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE REVIEWS AND CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISMS. I will surely take note of them. And now...

If you weren't able to keep track of the time, because it is just vaguely stated, this happens two months after Hinata's collapse.

**.**

**.**

* * *

** VIII. A Limb's Worth**

_(…of the things that aren't so fleeting in their entirety)_

The sun rises higher, but things are not the same.

Dust motes in the air. Suspended and adrift, visible only through the thick shaft of sunlight filtering from the open window. A million tiny particles in a room of humid air and washed out sheets, of fading paint and wooden floors.

Sometimes he thinks that maybe some spaces grow smaller over time, the rate so slow they almost refuse to happen. Perhaps the walls shift in and closer when he sleeps; perhaps the floorboards rise as the ceiling lowers, or a million more particles pass through his blinds and forget to leave.

Sometimes – lying down on hard floor, gaze fixed at an obscure point on the ceiling – sometimes he finds it hard to breathe.

An open scroll by the edge of his palm. A can of tomato soup on a table, stacks of books set neatly near the corner. The horizon a tiny picture through the window, as endless as ever and blue.

Sasuke gets up, hands on knees then in pockets, hair in spikes as dark as his eyes. He stands there for a minute. Moves to the door, gets out and closes it behind him.

The pavement is of hard grey cement, the surrounding grass a dull green. He runs a hand through his hair and continues. Past the juxtaposition of worn down houses and bright red roofs and fixed fences. Past several Uchiha crests and the tall imposing gate signifying entrance.

Reaching the familiar path outside his compound, he deviates from the usual route, ensures he is far away from the market place. Makes a detour to not pass by the discreet tea shop he used to go to, nor the one with loads of baked bread and butter and cinnamon rolls. Not the small bookstore with a dark red sign, not the area of generous food stalls selling takoyaki. Not the apothecary, and not training ground number eight.

Nowadays he would often find himself asking for things from thin air; surreptitiously and without much fanfare, just a mere sigh against the wind. The things he would ask for would range from the little things, like ripe tomatoes and new kunai, to those that are immaterial, such as a higher grade raikiri or a less-taxing form of sharingan.

Then to this: a flash of white skin and long hair; a poke aimed at the center of his forehead.

He reaches the training ground restricted to most ninjas. Takes a hand out of his pocket just as someone says –

"Teme, what took you so long!"

A kunai whizzes past him, just to the right of his cheek. He sniffs in disdain.

"Is that all you can do?"

Naruto gives a feral grin in return, says, "Not even close." He is standing, perched hazardously on a tree branch that looks two centimeters away from falling off. Hair damped with sweat, face in a stretch of a blinding smile.

Sasuke moves just as Naruto pounces from the tree branch, kunais clashing with a loud metallic sound in the air. His left-handed swipe is intercepted with Naruto's foot, before he deftly maneuvers their position into a forceful grip to swing Naruto off-balance. He flings himself off and lands on a small stump. Breathes out a big fire to create a smoke, obscuring both Naruto's sight and sense of smell.

His eyes, now a deep red, easily see through the smoke and focus on Naruto's crouched form. He flings two kunai in the air and intercepts the other twice to confuse Naruto of his direction, then he moves.

_Naruto._

His fist passes just inside his guard, before it is twisted expertly away. He then delivers three sharp strikes that accelerate after every turn, successfully hitting Naruto although leaving him open for a counter-attack.

_Perhaps it is always better – _

There is not enough warning before Naruto, as unorthodox as ever, scrapes his teeth against the inside of his ear. Canines sharp and biting against his flesh.

_To have never even met._

He quickly runs lightning through his veins in retaliation, and every hit he delivers is wrought with electricity. Sweat pools on his forehead, on his nape. Even in the midst of a fight, Naruto's eyes are as blue as ever.

_Naruto._

They fling away from each other then, and Sasuke takes the opportunity to breathe and take everything in. Naruto is sweating harder than he is, air coming out in large gasps, but it doesn't really mean anything. His form lowers, and the distortion evident near his hands indicate he has formed wind chakra scalpels.

_I might not know what to do._

He raises both hands in return, now covered in visible blue sparks.

_What is it that I can do – _

They come together at the same time, and the world dissoves into a shower of chaos and streaks of lightning. The grass by their feet get singed with fire, the earth deforms and reshapes itself at their command. Blood flows down at a slow, but continuous rate, and they don't stop until the other loses or forfeits.

\- _when I have only known loss?_

* * *

As with all of their spars, neither of them wins.

"Shit," Naruto gasps out.

The middle of the training ground is reduced to a 10-meter wide crater; broken branches scattered about, smoke still rising from several piles of ash. The air smells of sulphur, and charged with high-level chakra so contained that it almost feels dense. Their bodies lie bruised in the midst of the disaster, but not broken. Bloody, but nowhere near fatal.

"Sakura's going to kill me."

"You'll live," Sasuke huffs, trying to sit up. The gash on his right leg is hurting like a sonofabitch.

"She'll heal me just so she can murder me twice," Naruto says, kicking him without much force.

"Right."

"Why am I going to marry her again?"

Sasuke raises his eyebrows, but doesn't respond.

Naruto nudges him with his foot, "Sasukeeeee."

He sighs, patience already thinning.

"Sasuke-chaaaan –"

"What."

"Have you heard from her?" Naruto asks, suddenly serious, the question so abrupt Sasuke stays quiet for a whole minute. The only sounds that could be heard instead were their labored breaths, and the soft rustle of wind against the trees.

"It's not my concern," he finally says.

"Like hell it's not," Naruto snorts out, sitting up to face him. "I thought we talked through this –"

"We did," Sasuke bites out. "And we won't anymore."

"_Of course_ we're going to talk about – it's _Hinata_ we're – "

"Why are you bringing this up again?"

"Because," Naruto flails his arms, bloody though they may be, "She'll soon be – " He stops, something in Sasuke's expression catching him off guard. "You don't know, do you?" He squints his eyes then.

Sasuke looks away.

"You've been avoiding her," Naruto says incredulously after another minute, realization making his blue eyes pop out even more. "And not just her… you've been – you're avoiding _everything _about her."

Sasuke gets up, gathers his weapons. Says, "This is a waste of time," and moves to leave.

Naruto is, predictably, angry. But he just stands, and makes no move to stop him. Before Sasuke is out of earshot, he tells him –

"You can't run away, you know."

Sasuke gives no indication that he heard, merely resumes walking away.

But Naruto continues, voice growing softer, knowing Sasuke was listening. "She'll be reinstated into ANBU in a month. You know what that means, right, Sasuke?"

He falters, and stops. "What – "

"You've already accepted the promotion. You'll be in active duty in less than two weeks."

He responds then, but still doesn't turn around. Could feel Naruto's gaze burning through his back, bright and intense and… forgiving. Always, forgiving."Why wasn't I informed?"

Naruto shuffles a foot forward. Shrugs. "It only became official yesterday. Regardless, her reinstation falls mainly under the jurisdiction of the previous commander. Which means you have no say on whether she can be ANBU or not."

Naruto bows for a second, scratches his toe. Fixes his forehead protector, before turning to leave the other way.

"You can't run away, Sasuke. Not from this."

* * *

It's a few hours later when Sasuke heads to the ANBU headquarters, moving straight to Shino's room. He knocks once. Enters. The door is of plain, dark wood.

"Taichou," Shino greets with a slight bow.

The room is bereft of any identifying belongings, except for a lone picture frame perched on a small desk table by the bed. Shino was previously sitting by it, before Sasuke came.

Now he walks over to stand by the wall. Waits for Shino to speak. When he finally utters the words out loud, his voice is tinged with an emotion Sasuke does not want to name.

"I won't be returning to active duty."

"Explain."

"Several procedures were undertaken in the recovery of my arm, after a month of rehabilitation," Shino starts, back straight, hands in pockets and eyes on a portion of the wall. "None of them worked."

He moves to ghost his fingers against the edges of the picture frame, then turns to flip it over on itself. "The nerves refused to reconnect, the kikai bugs self-destruct when made to form a brideway, and my chakra won't go through when prosthetics were used. The confirmation of the operation's failure took two months - two months too long."

Shino turns to look at Sasuke for his reply, but he doesn't speak. Sasuke just stares, eyes locked and fixed into Shino, who suddenly feels like a child. Like his clothes no longer fit, the coat much too white and big for his spidery limbs and small heart.

"Normally, a circumstance such as this wouldn't have posed as much of a problem, but my arm wasn't disentangled," he quietly continues, "It was deconstructed, and the surrounding area reformed into a state in which the limb never existed. It was... a particularly cruel poison that had done it."

Shino stops talking then. Waits for Sasuke to speak. When a minute passes and the only sound that passes through was his own breathing, he takes out a folder from his desk, retrieves from it a paper with bold red markings; a resignation form.

He thinks he is ready to hand it over, but then the paper moves with the trembling of his hand. He crumples it, but Sasuke takes it anyway. Reads through it, then -

"Your worth is that of a single limb."

Shino clenches his teeth. Forces out, "No."

"You were on my team, and I valued you as such," Sasuke tells him, his voice without any inflection, "But if a limb is all it takes to take you out, then a limb is all you're worth."

"What you're saying is wrong and without any basis - with no idea of what it feels to _lose_ \- "

"How would that loss compare to losing those people in that picture frame?" Sasuke asks, cutting him off. "Perhaps not much, when you are so prepared to retire from your career as ninja."

Shino snaps, hand reaching for a kunai and slamming himself against Sasuke, who stays calm and deathly still against the same part of the wall he was leaning on earlier. Shino pins him with his knee, kunai poised dangerously close to his pale throat. "You dare - "

"When Naruto fought against Gaara, his arms were rendered useless. Recognizing this fact, he used only his jaw to move." Sasuke hissed. "He was_ thirteen_. He would fight through will alone if he had to. This arm?" Sasuke grasps Shino's wrist and takes the kunai away from him. Grabs the loose sleeve at the part where his elbow should be, "This arm?"

Then tears the fabric off with the blade of the kunai, the uneven flesh from what's left of Shino's limb just barely out of sight, "You have no need for it. You fight _without_ it."

Shino's jaw is tense in a way he usually never shows. His eyes are wild with fury, voice quiet and trembling in a way that screamed out a dying hope. "But like this, I am nothing but a liability. What use is there for a liability?"

And then Sasuke just stares at him again, stares at him for a second, a minute, maybe even an hour. Shino is back to being a child again, but this time, he is crying. Loud and painful, the echoes filling up the whole room. He wonders if Sasuke could hear it. If Sasuke, with his dark eyes and darker past, could hear him crying through all the noise.

And so when he finally replies, it is with the words Shino would remember to his grave.

"Then you train until you aren't one. You don't stop. You fight with all that's left - to keep the things you can still _lose_."

* * *

When Sasuke heads home by the time the moon is at its zenith, the bones in his body have turned into lead.

He cleans himself up, scrubs at his skin until he is pale as snow, unmarred almost by all the sharp edges that has been continuously thrown his way. He meticulously stores away his weapons, keeping a stack of them locked up in a closet near the yard. Goes to the kitchen to drink two straight glasses of water. Carries another full glass to his room, places it on his bedside table, next to a can of tomato soup he forgot to eat.

Sasuke lies down on his bed, and wonders at the relativity of time, of distance. He wonders at how Naruto is probably snoring away in his room, but is at the same time everywhere, all at once: in the hearts of the people he saved, saves, and will save one day. At how things such as pain and agony aren't there, but are still lurking somehow behind everyone's eyelids, stowed away until they are forced to appear. At how death is both tomorrow, and today.

And finally, just as his eyes drift close and without his consent, at Hinata. At how she can be a lightyear away from him, when at night he is with her the moment he dreams.

.

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* * *

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TBC.


	10. Deadlock

**AN: **How's this for a fast update? Please don't forget to leave a review. It really helps me in fleshing out the story. Yey!

* * *

**IX. Deadlock**

(and should things ever change)

* * *

"And how are you finding everything so far?"

Sasuke stops at the question, hand already poised to grab the door knob. He turns to look, moves both his arms to curl by his chest, back straight.

The Hokage lies farther back on his seat, feet propped unprofessionally on his desk, next to a large stack of papers he refused to sign. His masked face is angled towards the window, eyes apparently fixed on the setting sun; but in his periphery is Sasuke (always, always, watching closely over his team, always) and he wonders if the boy knows how much he looks like his father at this moment.

Sasuke leans back on the wall. Shrugs. "I expect the medics I requested to arrive soon."

"Only two weeks of being Commander and now you have demands. Tsunade is going to be pissed," Kakashi says, resting his forehead on his hand. "You're asking for three of her reserve medics."

"She has a surplus of them," Sasuke replies in disdain. "She'd have no need for more, with the village's current state."

"Maybe," Kakashi relents, shrugging. "They still need to report directly to her, though – she is the head medic."

"Of course," Sasuke waves a hand in the air, "The only difference that matters is they will report to me as well, besides their permanent station at the headquarters. Tsunade should have no problem with that."

"If things go well, the medics will arrive within a week at most."

Sasuke doesn't say anything in reply, to which Kakashi gives out a sigh. He looks out the window again, now only a small part of the sun visible over the horizon. Kakashi could remember a time when all the sky could be to him was a dark grey, the sun's light somehow not reaching far enough.

Heaving another sigh, he stands up and perches down to retrieve a file from another stack of folders, motioning for Sasuke to come near. Best to get things over with, he still had to train Naruto with politics in an hour – something he isn't particularly excited about, mostly due to Naruto's inherent ability to be constantly annoying, rather than his apparent inclination to the subject, often upstaging and beating Kakashi in his own game.

Or so he tells himself.

"The last of your recruits," he says, voice suspiciously nonchalant, arm extended to hand the folder over to Sasuke, one of his Anbu Commanders. "She'll arrive within the day."

Sasuke never tells him much, but Kakashi feels that he never needs to, because in his eyes he will always see Sasuke as the little boy with prodiguous talent and misplaced wrath, forced to know pain when he was simply far too young.

So when Sasuke stays quiet, again, merely giving a small nod and retrieving the folder from his hand, Kakashi doesn't say anything in return, because that's who he was and all he could ever be, leaving the words for things that needed to be voiced, and keeping silent for the things that needed no words.

The door to his office closes. The ensuing quiet engulfs him. Kakashi thinks of the way Sasuke's back disappeared behind the wood, then shuts his eyes to rest.

The expression on Sasuke's face has told him enough.

* * *

When the sun sets and the sky is a color of different shades of orange, pink and blue, Hinata realizes that, for the first time in a long time, she finally feels like crying.

Presently she bows her head, sweat building up from her temples, the nape of her neck. Her cheeks are flushed a dark red, breath coming out in large gasps, upper body supported by both hands locked on her knees. Her hair falls forward. She stands from her position. Brushes it back.

Looks at her father in the eye. Says, "Thank you, Chichi-ue."

Her father nods in return.

"You will need to meet with the Head Commander as a formality, I assume?"

Hinata nods.

For the past three months Hiashi was the one to directly oversee her training, after a week of rest following her collapse. The first two months were devoted solely to her training, and it was only during the last month that she went out on missions, to reacquaint herself with the feel of it: the continuing struggle, the constant state of periodic focus and rest. Sometime along the last month she had to meet with the previous commander for an exam crafted especially for those seeking reinstation. More often than not the veterans would pass the physical exam without a hitch; they were deemed capable once, and were likely still so, provided nothing physically detrimental had happened.

It's the mental examination that fucks everything up.

Needless to say, Hinata has passed both, although not with exceptional colors.

She had wondered, more than once, if it was only because of her father's influence, before squashing the thought; it was an insult to the task force, and an insult to her family name. Furthermore, during her training Hinata would often find her body moving in directions she hadn't known herself capable of doing. In consequence to this, most of the time she had to rely on instinct and flow with the complex movements to familiarize herself with her body again, learning different sets of moves along the way, as well as further increasing her speed.

For the most part it was a success; her father told her that physically, she was almost at the same state as she was before the sealing. It was of no surprise, however, seeing as that the chakra and muscles she had built over the years were not damaged or rendered any less useful during the month of her sealing; they were merely not put to good use for a significant period of time.

Hinata exhales another lung-full of air. Wipes a hand over her eyes. Breathes out again.

Three months of training gave not only her strength back, but her confidence as well. Three months of training gave her a heightened sense of awareness, a purpose, and the ability to use her Byakugan again. Three months of training drew her closer to her father, maybe even to herself.

Three months of training gave her all of these, but Hanabi still refused to return to her.

"Hinata," her father calls out. "Come."

He walks forward, heads to the low porch to their left, and kneels himself down on the wooden panels. Hinata follows his lead, quiet as ever.

Steaming cups of chamomile tea are already set before them, white smoke in thin wisps floating in the air. The afternoon breeze is already tinged with that of night, on the vague boundary between warm and soothingly cool.

Hinata sips at her tea. Waits for her father to speak.

"Take off your bandage," he says softly.

And there is no hesitation when she raises her arms to pull at the knot, no sign of shame or betrayal or hurt when the white strips fall off, the branch seal a vivid green on her forehead. She doesn't look down. She just stares straight ahead, right into her father's eyes.

(And I will wear it with honor.)

It is Hiashi who breaks from the stare after a minute, retrieving something from his pocket. He pulls out a thin black cloth from it and motions for Hinata to come closer.

He stretches the black cloth carefully with both hands. Smooths it out.

Wears it on his daughter's forehead, slowly and meticulously tying the cloth into a knot by the back of her head, lacing his chakra around it to keep it in place.

He leans back, moving away. Notes the faint look of shock on Hinata's face, and says,

"It was your mother's."

When another minute passes and Hinata still doesn't say anything, he continues, "She would've wanted you to keep it."

He hesitates only for a moment. Places his right hand atop his daughter's head, pulls it to rest just a centimeter away from his shoulder.

The sun begins to set.

And quietly, he says –

"Well done."

And Hinata, soft and calm and kind, posture straight and dignified, suddenly feels herself revert back to being a child in the arms of her father, strong and distant and invincible. The warmth from her father's hand suffuses into her skull, into the deepest pits of her bones.

She has always perceived her sealing to be of worth, that it was of no significance at all when compared to her sister's pain. That it was her duty and honor to protect, and always protect Hanabi. She thought that struggling through it was enough, that it was her obligation, so long as Hanabi stayed safe and loved.

It is only understandable then, that when Hiashi gently pats her head once more and leaves, she feels the sting of tears in her eyes, building up from all the way down her throat.

It is quite different, she realizes, to finally feel her worth.

But she doesn't cry, finds out that she can't. Perhaps it takes more before she finally does, because maybe she isn't as weak, isn't as soft as she remembers herself to be.

The thought frightens her.

Even a year is a year too long, after all.

* * *

The ANBU headquarters is a building that is twice as tall as it was wide, with large metal fixtures for doors and cracked grey cement for walls, surrounded on all sides by trees. A large sign with the words 'Headquarters' lies to her immediate left.

She enters through the double doors. Approaches the staff at the counter.

She is asked to fill out a form, before being directed to the last room on the tenth floor.

Now and then she would see a familiar face, but for the most part, to her relief, the space is barren and empty.

When she is done, Hinata walks away. Enters the lift. Waits.

A soft ding resounds through the small space, the lift stops at the specified floor, and she moves out. Reaching the farthest door on the hallway, she knocks twice.

Waits for the muffled, "Come in," then enters.

Sasuke doesn't look at her when she does, stays focused on a scroll in his hand. His profile is to her, body leaning against the table to support his weight.

"Taichou," she greets, testing the word out.

The only sign of acknowledgement from him is a slight inclination of his head.

Hinata doesn't mind, thoughts wandering, gaze moving to rest at the view behind him. The stars are almost visible to her eye. It is almost night.

A day after the announcement of her results, she had met with her supposedly previous team, as was instructed to her by the previous commander before stepping down, whom Sasuke had apparently replaced that same week.

She remembers the apprehension she felt, standing in front of her team, their masks having just been taken off.

She immediately recognized Shikamaru, even before he took off his mask. But she didn't recognize the rest, when she was obviously familiar to them.

The one who had been on Shikamaru's left was a tall, brusque man named Jiro, older than them by a few years, remarkable because of the gruff smile he had given her, and the long thin slash fom his right cheek, down.

The significantly friendlier one of the two introduced himself as Kiyoshi, and they were the same age. He had hair as blonde as Naruto's, and eyes almost as light as hers that it made her breath hitch. He approached her with a wide grin, then gave her a soft punch on the shoulder, saying 'It's good to have you back.'

No apologies were said, no excuses were made. They didn't ask, and she didn't say anything. Somehow their expressions told her that they understood. Nothing needed to be said.

As expected, Shikamaru was her team's captain, and, she found out, their team worked closely with Shino's, who had Sasuke as their captain – promoted only after a few months of being ANBU. His team was comprised only of three members, with a girl said to be a relative of Tenten filling up the third spot.

Hinata's gaze shifts to Sasuke then; takes note of how his eyes are as dark as the sky behind him. His fingers move across the scroll as he reads, expression blank except for the slightest crease in his brow. In a span of less than a year, he was able to rise through the ranks again, this time as Head Commander. And she wonders at his prodigious talent, at the contrast between his ease and her sweat, his silence and her timidity.

His blood, and hers.

As Sasuke looks out at something beyond the window, Hinata feels the beginning stirs of envy in her gut, and is ashamed.

All she remembers of him besides their disconnected childhood was his return, made blinding by Naruto's smile. If she recalls correctly he was convicted of a light crime and was made to suffer through house arrest, then nothing more. She had already been ANBU by that time. Then somewhere along the line he made ANBU as well, then ANBU Captain, and now, Commander.

_His life_, Hinata thinks, eyes locked on his pale hands, _is a little cruel._

Sasuke opens a drawer fom his desk, keeps away the scroll. He walks to the storage closet by the corner. Rummages through it. When he comes back, he gives her two things: her uniform, and her name.

"Dove," he tells her, handing over the pale white mask. "Is it as you remember?"

Hinata shakes her head. "Back then I was only an ANBU field medic… and a reserve soldier. Those like us… had no need for aliases. Just –" she looks out the window, "numbers."

She traces the contours and protrusions of the mask, tries to remember if she had done it before. Sets it on her face to measure the fit, finds that it does. Behind it she closes her eyes, forces herself to think of a time when she had worn the exact same thing. But all she feels is the warmth of the breath that doesn't escape, and the clawing desperation as it starts to bury itself under her skin – invisible and silent, moving without notice, but always just _there_.

Eyes closed, Hinata thinks she could feel Sasuke's gaze, steady and burning through the mask.

She takes it off.

Sasuke is by the desk again, this time with another scroll, a kunai, and a pen. He asks her to sign her name, then gives her the kunai, handle first.

She accepts it, then nicks at her thumb. Blood wells out. She signs the scroll with it.

Sasuke watches, something dark and almost cruel swimming in his eyes.

A minute passes.

She hands over the scroll to him when she finishes, and he keeps it in a drawer.

It's official.

He doesn't welcome her, just stares at the space where the ANBU scroll had been. Stares at it for a long time. As if it had sealed not her fate, but his. He looks into her eyes for a second, then looks away.

"Your tattoo," Sasuke says, eyes blank. "It needs to be redone." He then proceeds to clear a small space on his desk – the nearest thing available – for her to sit.

Hinata watches him do so, absently tracing the part of her shoulder where the tattoo used to be. An ANBU tattoo is an official and tangible symbol of allegiance and loyalty to the system. As she understands, it is bound through blood and chakra and serves as a conduit between the system and the individual. The moment she had resigned from her obligations in preparation for the sealing, the black markings of the tattoo disappeared.

Sasuke stands to the side and just waits for her.

Another minute passes before she understands.

Outside the window, it is dark. There is barely enough light coming in from the moon. The room is cast in soft light and harsh shadows, with shapes exaggerated in their form.

Hinata sighs, surreptitiously breathes. Right hand moving to clasp the zipper on her front, because the material of her jacket is too thick to properly roll up, and lowers it down.

Her eyes, of their own accord, glance up at him. Then down.

Sasuke just watches.

The descent of her zipper, to her, seems ubearably slow. As if the rest of the world had paused and all the time had melted into this moment. She tries not to falter, not to flush – tries for the life of her to understand the reason for the lump at the back of her throat.

The zipper has gone all the way down,and she slides the jacket from her shoulders, movements careful and slow. Underneath she is wearing only a thin black singlet, and she shivers.

Hinata sits on the space provided on his desk, making sure that her right shoulder faces him. She looks down at the floor just in time to catch Sasuke looking away. Waits.

The room is cool from the night air, and Hinata feels the warmth emanating from Sasuke as he draws near.

Something strange happens to her insides. The lump at the back of her throat tries to drag itself out, clawing and scratching at her vocal chords – perhaps into a scream, perhaps until she chokes. The force creates a hole in her stomach, something deep and always empty, caving into itself everything it could reach.

His hand brushes her shoulder to pull the skin taut, before the first spike of pain courses through her, sharp and biting. His movements are slow, almost clinical in tracing out the pattern, and she hisses.

He's dragging it out.

She glances at her shoulder, at the blood and chakra ink building up, before her attention moves to him. Stays there.

This close, she could see the thin shadows from his lashes, the edges of his face, his sharp cheekbones. He is pale – as pale as her – and she could almost see the blood flowing through his veins.

As if summoned by her gaze, his eyelids flutter, and he turns to look. His ruthless black eyes boring steadily into hers.

And she is paralyzed, finds that she can not move, that not a single muscle aches to move away.

(This close to him, the hole inside her screams.)

She doesn't know how long they stay there, in an impasse. Just knows that it is Sasuke who breaks it, in a voice so low she almost doesn't hear –

"This," he tells her, "is cruel."

She searches his gaze. Asks him, "...What do you mean?" and expects an answer.

But Sasuke just lifts the corners of his mouth up – in a mocking imitation of a smile.

* * *

Sasuke comes home to an empty house before midnight, the moon a half shape in the sky.

But in his mind he is still at headquarters, in the room of soft lights and harsh shadows and shapes exaggerated in their form.

He has never pegged himself for a masochist; just someone without control – over desires, over want, over pain.

'Uchiha-san,' she had asked him, 'is something wrong?'

'Yes,' he had told her. Then - 'Call me Sasuke.'

It was... selfish. Disgusting. _Needy._

After much hesitation on her part, in the end, she agreed.

Sasuke remembers how Hinata had called out his name before she left. He remembers how her voice had moved through the air, soft and calm, confused and barely disturbing the quiet - almost as if she had known that he would break.

.

* * *

.

.

.

TBC


	11. Calluses

**X. Calluses**

_(the pain in his voice whenever he spoke)_

* * *

Shino was gathering different toxin samples from his new colony when Hinata arrives. He doesn't hear her, but knows immediately the minute she's near. He turns to her, setting down a basket of vials at his feet. Notices the mask she holds with her left hand, the black uniform that the ANBU wear underneath the metal guards.

"Congratulations," he says to her, whispers her name, "Hinata."

"Mmm," she hums in return, crouching down before outwardly inspecting the different substances he had previously collected. "… thank you, Shino-kun – I just got back."

She probably just did, Shino thinks, observing the thin cut right above her left eye. Her uniform is torn on one side, leaving a portion of her torso exposed; and there are cakes of mud and dried blood plastered all over her skin. Oddly enough – it suits her.

She returns the glass vials to the case. Turns to him. Says, "You… aren't ANBU anymore," then lowers her eyes.

Shino adjusts the black glasses perched on his face, moves to the porch to sit, knowing she would follow. He knew this would come, had known it for a while – but still it feels as if a delicate and unassuming edge had marked him with thin papercuts in a jagged curve down his spine.

"You're upset," he observes, placing his lone hand in his pocket after putting the basket of vials down on a table. The porch is wide and enclosed by a latticework of timber wood fencing the area in; the windows are broad and screened, a passageway made specifically for their insects. They sit themselves by the stairs off to the side.

"Perhaps…" she whispers next to him. "I always… worry. I never know if you're okay."

Her voice is as steady as the trajectory of a kunai when it's thrown; and Shino thinks something inside of him hurts at the ache that mminutely spills from it. Hinata always speaks with the hesitance of voicing out her opinion, but with the surety of the meaning behind them. He has seldom seen her for the past months and they have barely talked. Shino wonders absently, as he observes the way her eyes take in the afternoon sun, if Hinata knows the depth at which she has sprung back from, if she knows that the resolve she has forced herself to have after the sealing is slowly manifesting into something more.

Hinata didn't change drastically during the year she can't remember – the person she was during that year is the same person she recalls herself to be – and the person she is, right now. Though the past year had inevitably brought about changes, the changes that did occur weren't so much subtle as they were evident. Hinata's growth didn't involve different perceptions regarding life or a sudden boost in strength; it ran more along the thin lines of confidence, self-worth, and the hungry drive to protect, instead.

"Would you like to know why I quit ANBU?" He asks after a minute, facing the sky. "Because as I am now, I am nothing but a burden."

Hinata's eyebrows scrunch up. The expression doesn't suit her.

"Had I continued to be ANBU, I would have put my team into unnecessary risks; I would not function as I should," he tells her, expression so detached it almost bleeds, "A high percentage of my kikai are stored in my arms alone, and the chakra signals I send are primarily done through my hands. The probability of failure would exponentially increase, and my plans don't include myself as being a luggage to carry around."

Hinata doesn't reply, and Shino knows that it is because a part of her agrees and would have done the same thing, even though she doesn't want to.

"But I refuse to believe that my worth can be reduced to a single limb."

At his statement, she raises her head and stares at him, surprised and curious, perhaps, at the quiet tone of anger and… something else in his voice.

"I will never be Naruto – nor do I wish to be – but I plan to return, no matter how long it takes."

"Okay,"Hinata whispers, then bites her lip, says another hushed down "Okay" and her voice quivers at the end, and her eyes turn suspiciously glassy and Shino understands, but pretends he doesn't notice.

Stays quiet.

It seemed only yesterday when he had felt something along the same lines, with his own kunai held by his captain, blade poised at something more than just his throat.

* * *

When things have settled down and the sun is nearing the horizon, Shino asks, "How was the mission?"

"A success," Hinata reaches for a vial, runs her index finger along the glass, "Exhilirating and… almost familiar."

Her grip on the vial tightens for a second, then loosens up. Exchanges the vial in her hand for another one.

"Like… water," she expounds, voice soft but steady, "Gradual dissolution, and what remains is swept up by the tide."

Hinata pauses and doesn't say anything for a long time. Shino doesn't speak; waits for her to continue.

"Kiba-kun told me that I had moved up the ranks from being a reserve soldier." She turns her head to him and smiles. Turns away, gaze focusing solely on the liquid green extract. "It has almost been a year since then. And I thought to myself – if a year is all it really takes."

"All it takes for what?"

"For something to be ingrained deep under your skin."

Shino watches how her gaze shifts from the vial to her arm. Wonders if she imagines if there are things behind it that are not of the color red; wonders the same thing.

"The month of my sealing remains to be a haze, and for the longest time I only felt… lost." Hinata looks at him from the corner of her eye. "But Chichi-ue informed me the things I took part in during the time I can't remember. The things he said were the same as what you and Kiba-kun told me – that I was active in ANBU and that… I was training to become an heir."

Shino knows this, even remembers the day they informed her of what they could. Some things, after all, could not come from them. "You were always quite tired, back then."

The corner of her mouth lifts up. "… I asked if that was all that happened, if that was, somehow, everything."

Shino had been observing the way she was handling the vial, and at her statement he forces himself not to look at the expression on her face. Perhaps because it might be too heavy to see. Perhaps because he might give in.

He imagines, for a second, what Hinata had felt at that moment – what it was that made her question if that was all there was to it. If some part of her knew that nothing could ever prepare her for this, that no matter what her father said, it would still be a deep dive into pressurized water, cold and blue and frighteningly vast.

So instead, he asks "And what of his response?"

Hinata exhales out a laugh, the sound conveying a kind of familiarity between them. "Chichi-ue said two things. One, that there are… questions that people cannot answer. And two - "

Her eyes lock with his, and Shino is surprised at the expression he sees on her face; something gentle, something painfully accepting.

"Some things can never be conveyed through words."

* * *

Hinata leaves just after the sun has set, needing to submit her report, and in her absence Shino feels his tongue grow heavy with all the words unsaid.

They had tried. The days he and Kiba have spent with her ever since she got sealed were filled with words; trying to compress all the days in a year into hours, trying to suffuse her feelings of being lost until they disintegrate into the air. And with Hinata's resolve only growing stronger by the day, her reintegration into the current society continues to proceed as smoothly as possible, but this had never been the problem.

It's the way Hinata's eyes had stared off into the distance at some point during their conversation. And Shino, for all his pragmatism and natural inclination to move through logic, understood what it meant –

She is longing for something she can not name.

And for all the words that they could speak, Sasuke and Hinata's relationship was something both of them felt they were not in the position to tell, especially with Sasuke's apparent decision to act as if it had not transpired. And if not for their knowledge, it would be as if it never truly did; few people knew of the matter (he thinks not even all of the rookie nine know),and those who did could barely claim to understand all of it.

However, even ignoring this, they still could not tell her.

She made them promise not to.

* * *

Hinata doesn't fully comprehend it, but she's starting to become aware.

She knocks twice before Sasuke's voice calls her in. The doorway opens with barely a sound, and when she closes it behind her, only the soft scratching noise of pen on paper could be heard.

Sasuke is writing, back straight against his chair. The room is dim, with the study lamp on his desk providing the only source of electronic light. The curtains are drawn away from the large window behind him, the sky behind it almost giving way to night.

Hinata doesn't move to switch on the ceiling lights, just proceeds further into the room. She doesn't know if there is a reason to it, but her captain prefers to keep the overhead lights in his room off, even during the dark.

This close to him, with only a few steps forward and a desk separating them, Hinata could see the veins protruding from his hand as he writes. His nails are neatly trimmed, his fingers feminine; wrist almost as white as her own. She lowers her eyes to her feet.

Sasuke pauses in his writing. Reaches out his hand. "Your report."

Hinata turns it over. Carefully avoids brushing her hand against his.

She is the last of her squad to send in her report; the others having done so before her. The official records of missions needed only the formal report written by the captain, but it was a long established practice that the other members submit their observations too, either for comparison or clarification on details their captain might have missed.

Sasuke skims through her report and she bites her lip, conscious of her writing. His shoulders are tense as usual, and she is sure that like all the other days, he has barely left his desk to rest.

"Shiraishi surrendered?" He asks, coming across a particular paragraph she had debated on including.

"In a way," she replies quietly. "His posture changed, and I could be wrong but..."

Sasuke lifts his eyes to hers.

"... He smiled."

"Right before Lizard dealt the blow?"

"Mmm. His movements became more... lax," Her eyes lower of their own accord, "As if he was just going through the motions... and everything became... easier."

"I see."

"The mission would have still been a success, Taichou," She amends, "But if he really did change his mind halfway, the outcome could've been more... severe."

Sasuke makes a soft noise of assent, resting his elbow on the desk, palm cradling his cheek. He's still looking at her, eyes only made darker by the hint of moonlight against his back. The dark blue turtleneck he was wearing seems a bit loose around the shoulders, and Hinata belatedly realizes he has lost a bit of weight. Not much though, not enough to make a big difference. She looks away, bites the inside of her lip, lets Sasuke mull through his thoughts quietly. Whenever he was internally debating on something, his eyelids would flutter open and close slowly, almost as if he was falling asleep.

Sasuke picks up the pen again before he decides to speak.

"Shiraishi had a daughter who died just a few years back," he tells her, pen carefully turning in circles around his fingers. "It wasn't included in the debriefing, but the small organization he built was supposedly for the real purpose of finding her, although this wasn't known to most of the members. He thought if she caught wind of it, she would return."

Hinata turns to him again, knowing where this was heading.

"But she could never have done so, she was already dead; he saw it happening with his own eyes." Sasuke stretches out his neck, turns it sideways to get rid of the cramps, the angle of his jaw sharp as it turns. He closes his eyes for a moment,and she faintly take notes of the way his lashes form shadows on his cheeks. "For the longest time he refused to acknowledge it. But perhaps, subconsciously, he knew it all along."

Hinata shakes her head once, says, "Then his death – " and cuts herself off.

"... is perhaps the better alternative," Sasuke continues for her. Something in his voice gives her pause, and Hinata watches as he reads through her report again, the contrast in the colors of his features making her throat feel strangely dry.

In the quiet of the room, the sound of their breathing seems almost harsh. The moon outside the window already rests high in the sky, its reflected glow filtering through and making everything vivid in a way that aches. The room always seems a bit smaller, the mahogany desk a bit darker, and Sasuke's pale skin whiter than it really is, almost translucent. Under the light of the moon, with just the two of them, he looks worlds away from the man his reputation makes him to be. Ruthless. Untouchable.

_Ruthless wouldn't be a word I'd use to describe him._

Sasuke exhales out, and Hinata remembers the way his voice almost got caught in his throat when he'd asked her to use his given name. The way his eyes had looked into hers immediately after, the slight tensing in his muscles, the way he seemed to want something that was never quite there.

_He always looks... tired._

She remembers how the calluses on his fingertips had felt when they brushed against the skin of her shoulder, how warm his breath had been whenever he exhaled. She couldn't remember ever being in that kind of close proximity with a man other than her relatives and teammates.

It felt odd. It unsettled her.

"Is this everything?" Sasuke asks after a minute.

"Yes, Taichou."

"You're dismissed, then."

Hinata nods, heads for the door, then hesitates. Breathing in, she turns to face him again, forcing herself not to look away from his curious gaze.

"S-Sasuke-san. Would you like some tea?" she asks, biting her lip. "You look tired. I could... I could make you some."

Sasuke's eyebrows furrow, and he blinks slowly – once, twice, then mutters out a "... thank you." He's staring at her again, and she glances away, moving to retrieve the stash of teabags he keeps in a small cupboard by the wall.

Hinata doesn't fully comprehend it, but everytime his eyes meet hers and she looks away, she finds herself wanting to look back.

* * *

.

.

.

TBC

**AN**: My deepest gratitude to everyone who left a review. I read them all and appreciate them and I take not of everything you guys say, the constructive things you tell me and the things you liked about this and EVERYTHING. I'm hoping to reply to all of them but everything has just been so hectic for me and I'M SO SORRY FOR THE SUPER LATE UPDATE. My laptop basically crashed and I couldn't access the update I had prepared for weeks!

Anyway, HAPPY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE. ENJOY YOUR HOLIDAYS! Please don't forget to leave a review again!

THINGS ARE GOING TO GET ... IDK BUT WE'RE FINALLY MOVNG

**EDIT: **nidayn pointed out a really huge mistake and now it's edited!


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